Cover Up: The Depot
by Mrs.Phineas Bogg
Summary: My CU series inspired by the show Mr & Mrs Smith: With unusual shipments arriving at a NYC Harbor, The Outriders become embroiled in a case involving crooked Diplomats, stolen military weapons and a pretty woman involved in clandestine work like Mac's.
1. Pa Dugan

**Chapter 1: Pa Dugan**

The tall man stood huddled over a flickering garbage can fire. He rubbed his hands and then wormed his way across the dank alley. The sun had just set behind the skyscrapers and the cold wind picked up dramatically, whirling papers and debris around his feet. He needed to see Pa, father figure to all the street urchins, junkies, and any other lost souls that needed a box to sleep in or a smoke to keep warm. Pa, an elderly and reformed drug dealer, was packing up after a day of selling measly toys, baubles, and pungent body oils on one of his busy street corners in the heart of Chinatown. The brisk January weather was bad for business, so he decided to turn in early. Pa turned around frightened when he felt a rough tap on his shoulder. He grabbed his metal cane and poised to strike.

The man tossed his hands up and gripped it tight. "Woah, Pa, easy there! I just need some info. I hear there's a new gang in town moving in on the _trade_. I want in. Whaddya got for me?"

Pa stepped closer under the street lamp and the man released his cane. He'd seen this one around asking questions before. He tried to be unassuming in his worn denims, plaids and hoodies, hiding his handsome baby blues behind horn-rimmed black glasses and his chiseled, perfect jaw under a gnarled, dirty-blonde beard. Pa couldn't quite make him. He smelled of undercover cops for miles, but this one was far different, more sophisticated–possibly a Fed.

"I don't do the trade no more, find yourself another rat."

"Come on Pa! I know you still keep all the tabs. Ya can't help yourself. I've seen them coming to ya as far as Jersey. They don't call you _Saint_ for nuthin'." The man struck a match on his boot and lit up a cigarette. The slight cough as he inhaled told Pa he was just a casual smoker, mostly for show. These days in the eighties you couldn't escape the barrage of cigarette ads–_Virginia Slims, Marlboro man, Newport–_they all wanted to take your life slowly but surely, just as they took his wife's with lung cancer ten years earlier. Pa waved his hand as the smoke drifted in his face.

"Do you mind? That crap will kill you! Ask my wife. Oh wait, you _can't_, because those dirty little sticks murdered her!"

"Sorry, _here, here_…it's gone, man, gone." The man tilted his head jittery and shuffled his feet. Pa looked on smugly thinking that he surely knew all the moves of a junkie, even the desperate tone of voice.

"I just…just…needed a buzz of _something_." He stomped on the cigarette and pulled a crumpled paper with shaking hands from his pocket. "Alright, look, I hear they got a shipment at an old warehouse at Chelsea."

"They ain't got a shipment there anymore! It's been…" Pa slapped his forehead when the man smiled.

"So you _do_ know! C'mon! I promise, I _didn't_ hear it from you." The man pressed.

"Ya tricked me, you punk. I don't like being a dope."

"You're no dope, if you were, we wouldn't be talking. And you fell right into that one. Spill, Pa, I wanna get home to my woman."

"Then get outta here, go feed your hormones, it's a cold night."

The man grew impatient, but held his ground. "I wanna feed on more than _that, _where are they?"

Pa resigned himself. The man had to be in some kind of law enforcement. If this foolish guy got killed snooping around, that wasn't his business. He just passed along information to clean up the streets, but this time, even he was still in the dark.

"Nobody knows where they keep the stuff, but this shipment takes the booby prize."

"You think its Mafia? Russian mob?"

"I don't know. I saw some black dudes, Spanish guys, the leader was white, maybe Italian, can't really tell in the dark. It's like top-secret junk, alotta men with sharp suits and all that. Scary looking bastards, I'll tell ya that, the type that will kill their own grandmothers without flinching. Whatever it is they're packing in, it isn't your run of the mill crick and crack. Them crates were _huge!"_

Huge crates. The man dealt with that before, and last time it was a supercomputer capable of controlling the world.

"What do you thinks in 'em? Stolen electronics? Antiques?" The man watched Pa carefully. He was his last hope for a word on the street, _any_ word, after exhausting all his options and growing physically exhausted. He spent half the week disguising himself as characters found everywhere from homeless shelters to sleazy Time Square hothouses. He worked OTB's and bars–where he actually enjoyed playing bartender, serving up little more than rum and cokes and screwdrivers. A few of the latter disguises he kept secret, knowing how irate certain females in his circle would get.

The old man wiped his thick brows and fidgeted, he was scared, not of being turned in by him, but of something overt and sinister. That same presence that kept him from engaging in more than vague chatter.

"Listen, I don't wanna be spreading rumors, but I heard it was something like weapons!"

"You mean guns, ammo? That sorta thing?"

"_No,_ I mean _weapons_–like U.S. military stuff. I would know, my brother died in 'nam, used to tell me all about that in his letters."

"Sorry to hear that, that's deep man. What would they be doin' bringing weapons to the big apple?"

"You got me! Maybe it's just a pit-stop or something."

"Any idea what kind of stuff?"

What am I, Superman? I can't see through crates!"

"Chill out, Pa, I'm just nosing. Anything else you can tell me about these guys?"

Pa scratched his head, revealing a white shock of hair under a navy skullcap. "Uh, like I said, sharp suits…_oh!_ Accents! They had thick accents ya know. The blacks might have been African, the Spanish guys; there was French, maybe a Russian. Definitely a Russian. I lived in the New York melting pot all my life, you learn to recognize them."

The answer seemed to please the young man and Pa saw a glimmer in his bright eyes.

"Wow, a regular _international_ crew, it must be something real special for them. That's too bad, I was hoping it was something _useful."_ He lied.

Pa's face contorted angrily. _"What?_ Like nose-candy? When are you guys gonna learn that drugs suck! Why do you wanna be a slave to some pill or powder? Scuffing up your body with track marks? It's crazy crap."

"Then why'd you push it all those years?"

"Because I made tons of dough, had a family to support, ya know? I was a dope then, I admit it."

"You never took the stuff?"

"Once or twice, but it got me sick to death. I stopped selling years ago when my son died in my arms."

The younger man felt a twinge of remorse for him. "I'm sorry, Pa, ya don't have to bring it up. I'm tryin' to break the habit, _'just say no'_ and all that stuff."

"Well try harder! Even under that beard I can tell you're still young yet. My son must have been your age when he OD'd, the crazy, stupid kid."

The conversation grew tense and Pa's eyes watered. The last thing the young man needed was a shabby, grief-stricken old man blubbering on him, not that he didn't want to be supportive; he just had vital work to do. He patted his shoulder reassuringly and grinned.

"Hey Pa, c'mon, give me a smile, I wanna see what you had for dinner last week."

Pa frowned and waved his hand at him. "That's no way to treat your elders."

"It is when they don't know what a tooth brush is!" The man quipped. "I'm just razzing ya, but you _might_ catch more flies with honey, if ya know what I mean. Your breath is kickin' harder than Bruce Lee."

"Oh, you're really asking for it now, kid!" Pa warned. He grasped the handle of his cart. "I said all I'm gonna say, so scat!"

"Thanks for the help, even if it is worthless to me. Night, Pa…by the way, man, what's your real name?"

"Why, so you can write up your police report?"

"Hey, I'm no fuzz."

"Report me to the F.B.I?"

"A _Fed?_ You gotta be kidding. Report you for _what? _Getting your goods off the back of a truck? You and every other vendor around here do the same! One of these days they'll pass a law, then I won't be harassed into buying over-priced wallets and watches I don't need." The man grumbled.

"Keep dreaming! Chinatown is knock-off central." Pa eyed him suspiciously, but then shrugged. His life was about over anyway, maybe when he kicked the bucket the kid would remember to put it on his tombstone. "My name is Patrick Dugan. Mind telling me yours?"

The man already started walking away, muttering about being late, and he turned to him.

"My name is Jack…Jack Carter."

"Sure, sure. Get home safely, _Jack._ It's rough out here at night."

"You too, Pa. I can handle it."

"I bet you can." Pa noted, seeing the man discreetly run his hand over his jacket pocket. A lesser streetwise person would never guess that this guy was packing with a handgun under the jacket and possibly a blade in his boots–which were definitely military issue. The man was experienced at this covert work, but he also looked worn-out, and probably didn't know which role he was playing right now.

"I said scram ya jarhead! There are plenty of other places to get your nasty drugs, but no one is getting them from _me_ anymore."

The young man obeyed and finally exited the alley, heaving deep breaths of fresh air. He slumped against the brick wall and drank a long swig of cool water from his flask. He desperately wanted a shower before he had to jump into his dress suit for the next assignment.


	2. Restaurant surveillance

**Chapter 2: Restaurant Surveillance**

After checking in his wool coat, Mac Harper strolled nonchalantly toward a sizable round table in the rear of an elegant restaurant owned by one of New York's top chefs. He spied his bosses, Danielle Reynolds and U.S Ambassador Henry Towler, glaring impatiently at the entrance to the dining room. Mac tried not to let his eyes meet their scowls. They both had half-eaten dishes of food and salad before them. Mac rushed to sit down and a bored waiter immediately brought him a menu. Mac didn't need to look it over.

"Our specials tonight are beef _stroga…"_

"Give me a T-bone steak, medium well with all the fixings, and a cold one, please."

_"Umm_…sir, how would you like your potato? Baked, boiled, mashed?"

"Baked, and don't hold back on the sour cream and chives, throw some bacon bits on there too, maybe a little cheddar, yeah, that's good. Just gimme a house salad, French dressing and the Yankee bean soup will suffice."

The waiter scribbled on his pad, his brows raised at the uncultured choice of dinner. It was a meal more suited toward a neighborhood diner. "For your vegetables? We have asparagus, artichokes…"

"Broccoli and _uh,_ artichoke hearts are fine." Mac grinned.

"Very well, and for the _cold one_?"

"Budweiser from the tap is perfect."

The waiter snapped his pad shut and flipped his pen behind the ear as he made a dramatic exit.

Mac sat back lazily and strummed his fingers waiting for someone to speak. If he had gambled on Dani, he would have won the jackpot.

"You're an _hour_ late. Let's hear it."

"I was doing my job, Dani. I finally got some Intel worth reporting and I couldn't let it go. Do you mind that I had to go home to shower and put on this monkey suit? The grime was a killer to get out of my nails, not to mention the beard glue on my face. I nearly ripped skin off. Why couldn't we just meet at the studio and order a pizza pie? I would have went half on that and Henry could have brought the booze."

Dani rolled her eyes and looked skyward. "You're incorrigible! You could have called! I told you the studio's being painted and fumigated, that's why you and the models have the week long break."

Mac laughed. _"Break?_ All I've been doing this week is _breaking_ my back, _breaking_ bottles, nearly _breaking _my nose…_again,_ break dancing…that was fun."

Henry cleared his throat sternly. _"Children_, class has begun. Mac, did you get anything at all?"

"Sort of?"

"Is that a question? What does that mean?"

"It _means,_ we have big crates being shipped into our harbor but nobody knows who, what, why…and nobody wants to talk, except for one guy, his name is Pa."

"Pa? You mean like, _'Little House on the Prairie' _Pa?" Dani asked.

"Exactly, but Charles Ingalls he ain't! You don't need his real name, but he's the go-to guy of the city, ask anyone."

"So, what did _Pa_ have to say about the crates?" Henry questioned, pouring more red wine into his and Dani's glass.

"He didn't see the contents, but he suspects they're military because of all the red-tape fluttering around the harbor. It wasn't much to go on until he told me who might be running the show."

Mac leaned forward and munched on a small buttered roll. "Henry, what would you say about a group of well-dressed, clean-cut men of various national backgrounds, watching over the shipment and delivery of these crates as if their lives depended on it?"

"Mob?"

"Nope."

"Drug lords?" Dani offered.

_"Nahh._ This doesn't seem to involve drugs. Otherwise, Pa would have known more about it."

"Okay, I'll bite."

"Foreign Diplomats." Mac said wryly and gulped down some water.

Henry looked incredulously at him. _"What?_ You mean to say these men are…"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm thinking they work for the good old U.S. of A."

Mac knew Henry didn't appreciate his accusations, since he was a United States Ambassador. Mac softened his finger pointing. "Okay, maybe they're observers or _assistants_ to Diplomats. We all know the real bigwigs wouldn't get their hands dirty. Henry, didn't you tell me that next week is a U.N. meeting? Suppose these characters arrived early enough to handle their shipments?"

Henry stroked his chin and looked to Dani. "He's right. There's a meeting to be held on the 9th about Palestinian rights, we have observers from the Middle East, Cuba, Russia, Hungary–a bunch of places. Mac, you can't be implying that _they_ are involved in weapons theft?"

Mac counted off the countries on his fingers. "Pa said he heard all different accents, Russian and Italian, even African. It's possible there are some New York crime lords involved with this transfer. Come on, Henry, let's not be coy. There's corruption everywhere."

Dani swallowed a bite of her salmon. "Wait, does anyone here have a clue as to what they want from the crates? Don't tell me it's supercomputers again?"

"I think we quashed that one, Dani." Mac gazed at the carpeting lost in thought until his food came. The aroma perked him up and he dug in quickly. "This will help me concentrate better, I'm starving!" Through a mouthful of steak and potato, he offered an idea. "The FIM 92A-Stingers. They just produced a whole new line of them a couple of months back, right, Henry?"

"Yes." Henry fidgeted. He didn't want to discuss government details in public.

Dani eyed both men, bewildered. "What in the world is a _stinger?"_

"Its an infra-red homing surface to air-missile, it can easily be shoulder fired by one person. A couple of thousand went into production with improved seekers. If they got into the wrong hands, everyone in this city better learn to duck."

"That's great advice Mac, never mind they may have added new _heat seeking_ technology." Dani noted smartly. "Ducking won't stop it. What if they want to use it to kill an official or someone of rank_, oh no!_ Air force 1?"

"Having one of these, anything's possible. My guess is for plain power. Henry, didn't they just develop a couple hundred of these babies for OC?" Mac slurped his soup and Dani swatted him.

Henry coughed to cover over Mac's announcement. "Thanks for not saying that _too_ loudly, Mac."

"Guys, I know I'm just the fashion photographer here, but you're losing me…_fast._ I get what the weapon is for, but what's this about an OC?"

"Its just stuff about the Soviet war in Afghanistan, it's all a big mess, but not something we have to worry about on this case." Mac noted, overlooking the warning glances from Henry to keep silent. He couldn't necessarily give away in a crowded restaurant that to the CIA, OC meant _Operation Cyclone_.

"Okay, how about this?" Dani asked. "Does anyone want to tell me why we're involved in this case at all? Henry, we help _individuals_ in trouble, we don't go hunting down weapons thieves or foreign diplomats. What's our role here?"

Henry looked to Mac gravely. "All right. Here it is. I received a call from the Secretary of Defense, they want me to use my best Outrider to recover the missing shipments as quickly as possible, without all the fanfare."

Mac nearly choked on his steak bone as he gnawed the last of the meat off. "You mean to tell me I had to play pimps and junkies all week and you already _knew _what was in the crates?"

"Did you think we _wouldn't _notice crates of missing military weaponry that were just designed? I'm sorry, but I was put under the strictest confidence not to tell anyone, even my Outriders. They wanted additional confirmation and you got it for them. Are you up for this, Mac?"

"You played a _pimp!" _Was all Dani could muster. "Mac! How degrading, to the women _and_ you!" She scolded.

"_Arr,_ you weren't supposed to know that one."

"You talk too much, Mac." Dani huffed.

"It wasn't as awful as it sounds. I think I even managed to convince a few to go back home and wipe the slate clean, one of them was only seventeen! I had to scuffle with some guys trying to beat on her." Mac downed the last of his beer, sensing Henry's growing irritation. He'd just have to add this week's adventures to his private journals.

"Anyway, I'm back in one piece, and Henry, I'm up for anything. It's about time I got some action around here."

The last month proved fruitless in the Outrider business so he had to keep playing up more than the usual appearances as Dani's male model and magazine boy-toy for everything from multi-colored K-Mart sweaters to flashy Armani suits. All the attention he garnered for his outstanding good looks often embarrassed him, but Dani could only say that, it was_ 'the price of glamour.'_

The waiter returned to clear their plates and offer up a first-rate dessert menu. Mac went for the cherry cheesecake with caramel swirl, Dani, the Chocolate-raspberry mousse cake and Henry declined, claiming he needed to watch his sugar intake. Mac couldn't help but think all the casual drinking wasn't doing him any favors, but he wasn't one to point out others shortcomings. He was laden with his own, despite how perfect everyone who merely glimpsed him seemed to think he was.

As they carried on in trifle conversations, a lone woman stared intrigued from a single table a few feet away. She swirled her wine around the long-stemmed glass and eyed Mac's profile keenly. She had all the pictures she needed, generous applications of lipstick picked up their conversation. She tucked her make-up compact–which concealed a mini camera–into her purse. Her handlers at the Depot would be pleased to know the identity of the other crew horning in on their caseload. _Outriders_…it sounded like a brand of cheap rubbers. She tapped her ear inconspicuously.

"Did you get all that, Mr. Jordan?" She spoke low, rummaging in her purse again.

"Clear as a bell, Ms. Delancey. So what do you think? Is this guy worth his salt? Did he see you yet?"

"I wouldn't underestimate him, and no, he hasn't. I think it's time though."

_"Ahh,_ what'll it be for tonight? _I dropped my purse_? _Lost a contact?_ "

"No, something more substantial…simple…wet."

"Me likey the sound of _that."_

"Watch yourself, Mr. J!"

"Can't." He munched on potato chips in her ear. "I'm too busy watching you!"

The woman fluffed back her long, dark blonde hair and made another quick mirror check. She pursed her full lips into a pout and added a dab more lipstick from the real tube she carried. Her almond-shaped dark eyes were deftly contoured and lined in brown and bronze colors–sensual, yet innocent and fresh faced as a silent film ingénue. She noticed the waiter approaching their table with his water pitcher and timed her move.

She made a small show of tripping up, then adjusting the strap to her heel. Her body swerved to the right, and she pretended she didn't see the waiter. The set-up was perfect. The pitcher knocked from his hands and water spilled all over, mostly on the young man's fitted, navy blue suit. He immediately jumped up. The waiter was altogether startled and he backed away fearful of an outburst of anger.

"I am so sorry, sir! I didn't see the young lady and it just slipped, please…"

Mac grasped the table napkin out of his shaking hands and quickly wiped his pants. "It's okay, I'm not gonna melt."

"No sir, I will bring you another dessert, and you shall all have that _and_ the drinks on the house."

Dani was about to decline and Mac glared at her. "Thanks very much! I'll take more cheesecake to go, please."

"Coming right now!" The waiter hurried away in fear for his job.

Mac turned his attention to the cause of the commotion. The woman stood by open-mouthed, her eyes widened. A gasp caught in his throat at the sight of her. She was a beauty, a fairly young, shapely woman draped in a shimmering, beige dress. She was on the short side and had a gentle face reminiscent of a gazelle. She put a hand to her cheek and came up to him slowly, then dared to wipe the water spots off his shoulders and down his chest.

"This is all _my_ fault! Sometimes I can be so clumsy it hurts…_other _people."

Mac grinned slightly. "Like I said, it's only water. I'm not made of sugar and I didn't drown either."

The woman laughed earnestly. "I'm glad you can find the humor in this, the last guy I dated was such a baby about it! I mean, why cry over spilled milk? Accidents happen. I can _promise_ you it won't happen again." She said demurely. The eyelashes, men loved her full black lashes, and her dimples, always a charm. She batted her eyes, smiled, and knew instantly that she baited him.

Mac nodded thoughtfully. "Well, that we'll have to see, won't we?"

"I'd really like to make this up to you. How about dinner on Friday night? You pick the place."

"Does it require evening wear?"

Mac Harper was fast to the draw and never seemed to look a gift horse in the mouth. He reminded her of a poor man's James Bond, without the British accent.

"Not at all, it can be Burger King, whatever floats your boat. Have it your way."

Dani shook her head and lowered her gaze with a sly smile as she rose to leave. Mac could almost read her mind. She was daring him to say _'dinner at Denny's.'_

"There's a great bistro in midtown, they have the best char-grilled burgers going, all sorts of crazy concoctions." Mac said enthusiastically. "I can't help it, I'm a real meat and potatoes kind of guy."

The woman smiled at him. "I love a good burger! Beats the stuffy carrot curls along Madison Avenue. Here's my card."

She whipped a small pink card from her purse and made sure he caught a whiff of the sweet perfume both she and the card wore. She scribbled her home number on the reverse. Mac snatched it away, and she could almost see the tremble of delight course through him. His company had made their way to the coat check.

"Looks like they're about to leave you stranded. _Um, _what's your name, anyway?"

"Mac Harper and yours?"

"Crystal Delancey." She said, hoping he missed the hesitation and kicking herself for using her _real_ first name. She never let her guard down on cases, but there was a first time for everything.

"Lovely. So it's a date then. Do you have a ride home?"

"Yes, I'll be leaving soon."

Mac gently took her hand and placed a kiss on it. "I'll call you, Miss. Delancey."

"Look forward to it."

Mac sniffed her card and smiled bashfully. He shuffled toward the exit with his hands in his pockets and whistling _'I'm in the mood for love.'_ Dani stood beside a cigarette dispenser and crossed her arms. Henry had left a few moments earlier to bring around his car.

"She made us, huh?"

Mac rocked on his heels, keeping the dim look of love at first sight upon his face. "Yup."

"Now what?"

_"Now_, we share some burgers, a few laughs, and I get the truth from her."

"That was smooth, Mac. You really could have caught the water pitcher."

"Of course, but she counted on the water spilling, that way she could bait me. Why should I upset her plans? She didn't have to go through all the trouble of course, all she had to do was say hello."

"I wonder if she felt your eyes burning into her all night. Don't think I didn't catch_ you_ spying, Mac."

"Couldn't' help it, it's all part of the game. I think she's intelligent…and fast…um, I mean quick to think on her feet." He added.

"Sure. She's fast all right. And buster, don't get too fast with_ her._ We have no idea who she is or where she's from. She could easily be working for the weapons thieves." Dani reasoned.

Mac shrugged and led her outside toward Henry's car. "I'm cool…and don't look too long, but I see a surveillance van parked up the block."

Dani had to peek, and noticed the wide, black van idle alongside a mailbox. "I wonder if she recorded us and how?"

"Easy. A woman can only apply lipstick so many times a night and use the compact mirror."

"Come to think of it, I'm not sure how she communicated with her partner, but I know I never rummaged through my purse so many times." Dani reflected.

Mac opened the passenger door for her and laughed. _ "You?_ You got yourself together, neat as pin. Wallet in the small zipper, make-up in a separate carry-all and not a receipt or scrap of paper to be found."

"This is why Henry picked you, Mac. Keen powers of observation, besides your agility in the field."

"I believe it was _you _who picked me, Dani. No doubt for my insanely good looks, but the agility has its benefits." He grinned.

"Get in the car, Mac."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mac?"

"Sí, Señora?"

_"Don't_ call me _ma'am."_


	3. What's in a name?

**Chapter 3: What's in a name?**

The moment she slid the van door open, Mr. Jordan tugged her inside, annoyed. He slammed his headphones upon his small desk and shut off the recorders.

"I can't believe you did that!"

Crystal gaped at him. "Did what?"

"Told him your name, dammit!"

"What are you talking about? I'm still _Ms. Delancey_, you don't even know my _real _name!"

"You think I don't? I haven't been working for the Depot for _ten_ years without checking up on every new partner I'm assigned, _Crystalyn."_

"Jordan! You know the rules! I don't know you, you don't know me…no questions asked or answered, it's the same for all the agents." She wagged her fist at him. "I should have known you'd do that."

"That's what Randolph gets for giving me rookies. We're spies, we do this for a living."

Crystal glared at him. _"Rookie?_ I'm CIA for the last four years." She leaned over him in an attempt at authority, but saw no fear or respect, only anger.

"Jordan, just because I never heard of your precious little _Depot_ before last year, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. That went smooth as silk."

"So you think. You compromised yourself with that hunk of beefcake. Outriders play dirty, Ms. Delancey. They always have. Let's just hope he's all brawn with _no_ side of brains!"

Crystal ran her hands through her hair frustrated. "I doubt that. Mac Harper pretends he's a Philistine, but he's _not_ stupid."

"Already defending him. I should have known." He grumbled.

Crystal ignored that comment and slumped on the miniature red beanbag toward the rear of the van. She couldn't wait to get out of _her_ monkey dress and heels. "I don't see what all the competition is. Outriders and The Depot are supposed to be playing for the same team. We're all the good guys, right?"

Mr. Jordan rolled his eyes at her forever-optimistic viewpoint and limped toward the driver's seat. Two years earlier he underwent a knee replacement due to chasing down a trigger-happy sniper, but the damage was too extensive. His injury often kept him grounded, which in The Depot's line of business often meant in-house surveillance and case filing. Randolph still wanted him in the field, but limited his action. The demotion embittered him, and he never failed to hide his sentiments. Crystal couldn't help feeling that her aging partner was jealous and weary of the covert business. However, he kept pressing on, and forcing rookie agents to take their jobs as seriously as he did. He rarely appreciated being partnered with women, despite that it was company philosophy. Now with his handicap, Crystal often took the lead in fieldwork, but she was careful not to brag. Mr. Jordan reminded her of a greedy mosquito over filled with the blood of its victims, when you flicked it the wrong way; it exploded in a red mess. She hoped her odd analogy against him proved wrong.

He started the van up and drove away from the premises; a frown plastered on his leathery face the entire drive.

"You don't get it, do you, Delancey? The CIA sanctions both Outriders _and_ The Depot. Outriders have been in business for the last thirty years thanks to Henry Towler. The Depot only existed for the last ten years. Randolph was Towler's best agent at the time, but he desired to branch out on his own. There was nothing to leading a team of American hot-headed agents. Randolph's a Brit. He was into a sophisticated sort of infiltration, not outright bullying, which is Towler's method of choice. I was the only one that followed after Towler fired me, the lousy sunuva…"

"Hey, watch it! If they're so advanced, they could be bugging _us."_ Crystal pointed out. She had little tolerance for foul language; it just proved one's stupidity. Jordan's grudge against Outriders was strong, but she still wondered why he was fired in the first place. Most likely refusing to follow orders because of pride.

"There's no way, Miss Delancey, this van is bug proof. Outriders are first-rate, but it looks like Towler's getting a little long in the tooth, perhaps senile. Hiring a green-beret male model and a fashion photographer? Did the CIA suddenly run out of new recruits for the project? This is like a bad TV show."

"He's not doing anything The Depot isn't doing. Randolph wanted women, lots of them. He told me The Depot's origins, Mr. Jordan. He thought Towler was sexist and too restrictive in the cases he picked. He likened it to the Scarlet Pimpernel only saving _aristocrats_ from the guillotine. That's why he created the whole _'Mr. and Mrs.'_ subterfuge."

"Not only that. It's all a matter of funding. The CIA pumps money to both organizations every year, and every year we wait on our tippy-toes, grasping for whatever crumbs they drop and hoping they don't shut down operations. It doesn't help that _Towler_ steals our cases every chance he gets. Randolph is adamant that we keep this one. It's "Peace through strength." as Ronald Reagan says. The CIA _needs_ The Depot. Cracking this case could be The Depot's ticket to genuine respectability."

"This is sounding very Shakespearean, Jordan."

"You know how Randolph is, all into his literature in that grand old library of his. Just don't turn this into Romeo and Juliet, okay?" Jordan stared firmly.

Crystal couldn't resist teasing. " _"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."_ Mac's an Outrider; I'm from The Depot, big deal. The important thing is we stop whomever is attempting to steal those stingers."

"Don't tell me you're thinking of teaming up with this meat head? Randolph would forbid it, and so would I."

"Will you stop with the name-calling? Mac would certainly make better company than you right now, _like_ _chill out!"_

"Are you practicing for a Valley Girl assignment, Ms. Delancey?"

"You never know, Jordan. Unlike some agents, I rehearse for my characters. You totally botched the French painter last time, it sounded like Pepe La Pew on a bender."

Jordan glowered at her through the rear-view mirror. "Don't get cute! I'm looking out for The Depot's best interests and it certainly _doesn't_ include getting cozy with Towler's Outriders. Just focus on this little coffee clutch-Harper, Reynolds and Towler if he's around…_in fact;_ I have an absolutely _perfect_ way to get in on their action." He stared at her intently. "It's a good thing you're a babe, Delancey. Randolph always had a sharp eye for the women."

"I may be a 'babe,' but I made sure to lay down my _own_ set of rules for my assignments, Jordan. Kissing or physical contact that _'steps over the line'_ earns me a five dollar raise each time…and the stakes get higher after that."

"You've got so much _integrity._ The way you handled Harper tonight, you might be able to buy the farm after this mission." Jordan taunted her. "Just remember, if this case is successful, Randolph will definitely promote me to field administrator and that will be beneficial for you too. We'll talk about it more tomorrow."

"What happened to not getting cozy with Outriders?"

Jordan chuckled deviously. "I already know where this one is heading, I didn't need the mini camera to see the sparks."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Jordan, you're the one in charge here."

Crystal sat back quietly and pondered over his words for the remainder of the drive. If Mr. Jordan desired any sort of prestige, he was in the wrong business.

-O-

On the drive back, Henry couldn't figure who the mystery woman at the restaurant was. Either it was sincere confusion, or he was a very good liar. Because of his embassy ties, Mac went with the latter. Henry stubbornly refused to believe that 'his people' had direct involvement with the theft. Dani was on Mac's side, but played Devil's advocate for the whole ride.

Crystal didn't appear threatening, but appearances were always deceiving in this line of work. Finally in the comfort of his own home, Mac tore off his suit jacket. He kicked off his shoes, undid his tie and shirt, and flopped backwards on the couch. He clenched his temples for a few minutes and then glanced at the typewriter laying idle on his fold-up dining table and groaned. All his exploits eventually had to be reported for Henry's case-files. Mac never failed to amuse the top brass with his witty, diary-like journal entries. He wasn't ready to take a stab at that part of his illustrious job yet.

"Right, Outriders are_ so_ _famous,_ President Reagan doesn't even know about us."

Mac twirled the perfumed card through his fingers after inhaling it once again. It was pink with black swirl-type font. Crystal Delancey's cover was a make-up artist for hire. She certainly knew how to play up her own pretty features without massive amounts of blush and powder. If there was anything Mac despised in this decadent decade, it was women's cosmetics, so unrelenting and gaudy. What the fashion world considered on their faces as _'artfully contrived by Max Factor'_, he likened it to _'paint-by-numbers by Crayola.' _Every so often a woman like Crystal came along, timeless and flawless. Dani and some of the models were examples of such beauty, even if they overdid the blushes and eye shadows at times.

"I blame feminism! Taking away a woman's soft-side…making them wear god-awful shoulder pads!" He grumbled. That comment wouldn't fly to anyone but the fly buzzing on his wall. "What the heck do I know? I don't work for Cover Girl. _Damn!_ Why'd she have to be a spy?"

Mac sat up animatedly. He hated when his thoughts flew all over the place. It was part of the downsides of being a loner. He stumbled into the bathroom for his second shower of the evening. He still felt gritty and soiled from his recent covers, both in body, and in mind. He backed out of the bathroom and looked toward his weights and exercise gear. An intense workout before the shower would help to ease some of his tensions, and prepare him to crack down on the weapons thieves. If events turned rough, he couldn't promise much diplomacy for the shady diplomats.


	4. Bistro brush off

**Chapter 4: Bistro Brush off**

"Why do I need a team of fashionistas primping and telling me what to wear on a _casual_ date? I think what I'm wearing is spiffy enough. Blue button down shirt and khakis, you can't go wrong." Mac grumbled while Ashley dabbed a little mousse on her hands and then scrunched it through his wavy hair. "And _don't_ tell me it's the price of glamour! I don't expect to be glamorous chowing down on an everything burger."

Mac and Dani's models showed up earlier in the day to Dani's small home studio for a few portraits. It was work as usual.

Ashley calmly shook her head as she manipulated his curls. "I wasn't going to say a word. Dani says you have to make a good impression on this _particular_ woman."

"Uh-oh!" Billie and Lisa joked. "I guess that means he's going to have to crack open his wallet, she better be careful of getting dust in her eyes!" They both laughed gaily.

"Yeah, who knows what will fly out of that thing? Maybe a swarm of moths!" Ashley joined her friends in ribbing Mac.

Mac's grin turned to a scoff as he checked himself out in the full-length mirror. "As a matter of fact, she's paying for _both_ of us, it's her way of saying sorry for the water incident."

"So, is this really for a top-secret case? Is she a spy? It's so exciting!" Billie asked.

"Top-secret means no telling, but either way, I'm not telling…_yet!"_

"That's because you're wishing she isn't one." Lisa chided him. "I heard she's gorgeous."

Mac ducked the girls and tossed on his scarf and coat before they decided he needed any more polish. He had put his boot down on the eyebrow waxing.

"See you all soon, ladies! Don't eat too many bon-bons on your week off, my lap can't take it." He chuckled.

"Mac, get out of here!" They chased him to the exit. "And be careful!" They all shouted in unison as the elevator doors closed on him.

-O-

"Three dollars for the Pat Benatar oil, hon…it's only _seven _dollars if you buy the lotion too…plus you get the pretty velvet bag."

Pa held out his gloved hand with the decorative, purple baggie and the teenager eagerly shoved the money in his palm for both. He had taken to spicing up his selling technique by giving the fragrances pop culture names and dressing up the design. It was an added cost to him, and he had to make sure he concocted the proper lotions, but the payoff was worth it. Every woman wanted to smell beautiful on a budget and most around here couldn't afford the big name brands. Satisfied with the day's wages, he started to pack up his cart.

"Mr. Dugan? Mr. Patrick Dugan? We must have word." A heavily Russian accented voice spoke from behind him.

"Hey, most people 'round here call me Pa and I…" Pa turned and froze upon seeing a very tall man with whitish blonde hair in a black suit and coat. His clear gray eyes glowered at him, and his blood red scarf flapped in the wind.

Pa immediately remembered seeing him on the Chelsea docks when he spied the crates being unloaded. He thought about the bearded young man from two nights ago. He had deliberately told him there were no crates at Chelsea to keep him safe. He slowly backed up toward the curb and stood behind his cart.

"Uh, do I know you from somewhere?"

"Absolutely not, but I can recall you. Tell no lies. You were at docks last Friday night weren't you? We have you on the surveillance cameras. And you remember me, don't you? I can see it in your eyes you do."

Pa trembled, but kept his worn gaze upon the man's face, trying to find any flicker of emotion, but all he saw was indifference. His eyes resembled the steel gray barrels of a gun. Pa instinctively raised his arms.

"Lookit, I don't want any trouble okay? I have no idea what you all were doing out there. I'm always at the docks; you can ask anyone around there! I…I used to work in shipping and it comforts me to be…_hey…hey _look, you don't need too…"

Pa squeezed his eyes shut as the man drew his hand into his coat pocket. Instead of pulling out a gun, he pulled out a photo. Pa opened one eye and gulped. It was the bearded man who questioned him in the alley. In fact, the picture was from that same alley, taken just an hour before sunset that night. It was black and white, but the portrait clearly captured his face.

"You know this man, yes?"

"I don't know this man, no."

"You were talking to him that night, what did you say?" He demanded. The Russian's tone never wavered, but remained icily calm.

"Uh, he was…he was looking for a hit."

"He is mobster?"

"No, no. I mean a joint, ya know…_drugs?"_ Pa pretended to smoke. "He uh, he thought I knew where they sell that junk. "

"Do you?"

"Word gets around."

"Do you?" He asked again menacingly.

"Yeah, _no_…I used to! I've been out of that racket a long time now, really!"

Pa fidgeted as the man went into his other pocket and withdrew a dirty piece of paper. "Where did this come from? It has a list of warehouse addresses on it. Is it his?"

As the street filled up with more people going out for warm and tasty Chinese dinners, Pa grew bolder and stepped away from his cart.

"How the heck am I supposed to know? It's a random piece of paper!"

The man placed the paper in his pocket and before Pa could move, lunged forward and grasped his collar, nearly strangling him in the process.

"I want you to find this man for us. There could be big reward."

"_Whaa?_ Why? What he do? He's a Fed isn't he? _Damn!_ I knew it! I knew he wasn't street! I'm not getting no Government agents killed!"

The Russian tugged harder and Pa gasped. "Never mind that! We only want to talk to him."

"The find…him…_yourself."_ Pa choked out. "If you could get his picture, you can do that."

Seeing a few passersby staring curiously, the man released Pa's jacket and shoved him hard into his cart. A bunch of his oils and toys fell to the ground.

"We have more important things to do! This is your job now. You don't know who you deal with, Mr. Dugan. We know your life, you have pretty niece, no? We can't locate her yet, but we will!"

"Hey! You leave her out of this! Who are you people?"

"Not your concern! But it will be if you don't do as I ask you." The man warned. "You have three days! After that…well, you will find out and it will not be good news. The choice is yours."

The Russian man tossed the photo onto his cart. "Do not look for us, we will come here for you. Do not try to hide in another part of City or flee either." He stalked away, leaving Pa frightened and bewildered.

"Dang foreigners! You could snoop into my life, but you can't find _one _guy?" He wondered aloud. "I'll find him! I know who he is!" The Russian didn't hear him; by the time he reached the corner, he rushed into a dark blue town car and sped off.

Pa whipped out a current issue of _Vogue_ from his bag and thumbed through to the fashion section. The man was in there all right; His complexion sparkled without a hint of beard upon his face, his hair was combed in a swaggering side-part fashion. He stood casually in an all-white tuxedo with a bubbling martini glass, surrounded by three beautiful women dressed in alluring evening-wear. The image was brought to his attention by one of the petty thieves he knew on the street, who recognized the bearded man's startling blue eyes. Pa wasn't about to show this crazy Russian the magazine, but he had to do something to warn this model. He pulled out a magnifying glass and peered at the photo credits, it was taken in NY by one Danielle Reynolds.

-O-

Mac didn't know why, but he suddenly felt a nervous urge to turn tail when he came up to the bistro's lounge doors. The last time he had a real date was with Cindy, and he had lost her to tragic circumstances. For a long while, even though he solved her murder, he felt that he needed to keep far from women, at least not get too involved. With his line of work there was always bound to be some trouble. He peeked inside, but didn't see her. It was a few minutes until eight pm anyway, so he waltzed in and asked for a table for two near the back. The bistro was homey, with a pale tawny ambiance and underlying classic jazz theme. Pictures of musicians and old instruments and music notes dotted the walls. The comforting sound of the trumpet and sax wafted through the speakers, but it wasn't so loud that you couldn't hear yourself think.

Mac gazed at his menu, trying to decide if he should go for the onions when he smelled her presence. It was that same pretty perfume she sprayed on the business card. He glanced up and smiled/ He was relieved to see she understood _casual,_ and was dressed in dark purple denims, black suede fringed boots and a pink turtleneck. Matching makeup colors brightened up her face and brought out the intensity of her lovely brown eyes. Her hair hung loosely down her back and was parted on one side, showing off sparkling, pink studded earrings. Mac considered her look to be 'conservative punk.' He liked her style.

"Is this seat taken?"

"It's all yours, Crystal."

He rose up to take her coat and placed it around her chair, then pulled it out for her. This move surprised her and he anticipated that. He could always be the gentleman when necessary.

"Why thank you. Have you decided what to order?"

"Would you be offended if I got the…"

"_Onion ring mountain?_ No way, I love that! Hey, just so your breath doesn't stink alone, why don't we share one, the portions look huge."

"I'm down with that, we'll scale mount onion together…and pay for it later with indigestion. But I get a bronco burger on a seeded Kaiser bun all to myself." He said teasingly.

"Of course, and the seasoned curly fries are all my own."

"Fair deal."

After the waiter took their orders, there was a lull in conversation. They both looked away and she held back a giggle, thinking of the _five-second rule_. If you wanted to create romantic tension, stare directly into each others eyes for five seconds and hold the gaze, continually doing so every ten to fifteen minutes throughout the time spent together. Those were the 'love' tips she read in the latest_ Vogue_ magazine. She shifted her purse closer to the table. Mr. Jordan insisted that she record the conversation and she felt uneasy. She liked Mac, and didn't want to be under the gun to watch what she said. Jordan didn't trust her. He wanted to keep her on her toes, refusing to acknowledge that whatever in-house rivalry there was between the Depot and Outriders was not _her_ problem.

"So, you look great in a white tux. I didn't realize you were a model. You didn't say so on the phone."

Mac blushed. "Oh, right, Vogue just hit the newsstands this morning. It's a pain to wear that thing. I didn't even want to _move_ in case I got it dirty or spilled that martini glass of Ginger ale. I don't usually like to brag about the whole modeling career."

"What made you decide to be one?"

"_Uh_, money and I kinda just fell into it. Dani was looking for a new male recruit and I got the job after a test photo session. No biggie, it's fun."

"Was that your ultimate goal in life, to grace magazines and make men jealous?"

"Oh, you mean besides, cowboy, astronaut, ice skater, Olympic swimmer, gymnast and an ice cream man?"

Crystal nearly choked on her drink. "Now those I can definitely see, but ice cream man?"

"Sure! C'mon, you never dreamed of riding in the truck with all the happy music? Rummaging through the boxes for the fudgesicles? I _still_ do. It's one of life's bigger mysteries. What does he really have in those little silver freezers?" He said this seriously, but then broke into a laugh at his own silliness.

Crystal laughed also. "I can tell you what some Ice cream men have in there, at least in certain neighborhoods. I guess it would be fun. I had a lot of dreams too, cow_girl_, archeologist, female detective or just Mrs. Columbo, Donny Osmond's wife, Lois Lane…"

"Lois Lane?"

"That's what I call female journalists, but yeah, I always wished Superman was the real deal. And once the movie came out he had to look _exactly_ like Chris Reeve. I was willing to die my hair brown too."

Mac laughed. "It's funny how you became a makeup artist then, none of those other jobs seem very girly…except being Donny's wife." He shuddered playfully.

"Don't forget Columbo's! And, you so know you wanted Marie! As you can tell by my vibrant choice of colors, I am _very_ girly. Like you, I just fell into it. Beauty school was affordable at the time and I actually learned a lot of neat tips."

"Funny how you can jump from Peter Falk to Osmond, you're not a picky woman. Well_, um,_ I can see those beauty tips aren't wasted."

Crystal lowered her eyes, feeling her cheeks warm. His marginally peppered compliments were very sincere.

The food arrived and they both paused to eat for a few minutes and then just carried on in light conversation. Mac eyed her, thoroughly amused as she attempted to first bite the burger whole, then finally gave up and begrudgingly cut it in half. Despite her warnings, he still picked at her curly fries and she nabbed some of his coleslaw. Crystal was often vague in her answers about her personal life, but she owned up to being a cheerleading bookworm in High School and was shocked to learn he was too. She had a very down to earth sense of humor he appreciated. Mac elaborated on his _'Mr. Everything'_ status, but left out the fact that he was also _'Mr. Practical joker'_, and _'Mr. Always in the Principal's office.'_

Over ice-cream sundaes, Mac formulated how he would bring up her spying in the other restaurant. He almost didn't want to. He would have to tell Henry he needed more time with her. He looked up in time to see her shift and rummage through her purse again and realized they were being recorded. He had hoped his earlier suspicions were wrong. The thought steamed him; he didn't allow Henry to have him wire-tapped tonight, even though the suggestion came up. He decided to play his own game.

"There must be some wonderful stuff in that bag of tricks you have there. You can't keep away from it." He leaned over to peek inside and she pulled it away fast.

"_Uh_…it's just a purse! I'm just one of those women that keeps her life in her purse…_hey...hey_, did you happen to show your boss my card?"

Mac sat back in his seat, suppressing a chuckle. He had gotten uncomfortably close to spotting her wire-tap. He stared directly at her, his eyes widened innocently. "Why would I do that, Crystal?"

"Well, because I'm a makeup artist, and I would love a chance to work the big time, Danielle Reynolds _is_ totally the big time."

"You really think so? I mean, she's good of course."

"Of course! Do you realize whom you work for? She's one of America's top fashion photographers, and her more serious work in _Life_ and _National Geographic_ is breathtaking too. I can create some great make-up ideas. I had this thought of recreating the major 'looks' of each decade, like, Jean Harlow for the thirties, Rita Hayworth for the forties, Marilyn, Twiggy–we can dress the models up, and I can even make them look like celebrities of the past. It would be so much fun."

"Fun? I don't do make up, so I'd be pretty bored." He folded his hands and shrugged.

"No way! We could do some great stuff with you too, you have that classic man look from the thirties, I'm picturing a dazzling black and white profile portrait. Then we'll smudge a little eyeliner on you and give you that wild _silent film_ look, we can go Western, like John Wayne. Ohh, I'm definitely seeing you all rugged like Lancaster in _From here to eternity _or Kirk Douglas in _Spartacus_. You'd make a fine Roman figure." Crystal grabbed Mac's hand and stroked his fingers. "All I need to do is get an appointment and show her my portfolio."

Mac feigned insult. "Is _that_ what all this is about? You didn't care if we went on a date…in fact…you probably elaborated this whole scheme to butter me up so I can get you in with Dani, right?"

She removed her hand from his suddenly. "No, it's not like that at all. I was attracted to you, and the water was an accident!"

"Attracted? Sure you were, they all are, but the lure of the big time is worth much more than _me." _He resisted pouting too much. She still needed to be convinced he _was_ the man she thought._  
_

"Are you kidding? I like you, Mac! I really do, it was only a thought, I didn't mean to…"

Crystal was flustered. She looked sincerely taken aback and hurt, and Mac felt sorry for her, but he had to keep up the act. His voice grew louder and he spoke closer to her purse.

"Oh yeah, so you get the benefit of a few bumps in the night, but I'm really just a _pawn_ to further your career. You don't really want _me!_ I should have known. _This_…this happens to me all the time. _Pfft_, just when I thought you were different."

He ran his hands through his hair exasperated, and made a sad _'Woe is me'_ face that would surely tug her heartstrings. He calmly retreated toward the restrooms, but stopped by the phones and slumped over, peeking to make sure she noticed. She immediately came up to him and stroked his shoulders.

"Please, Mac, sit down, we'll talk about this. I'm _not_ like that! I genuinely wanted to go out with you for _you_. Danielle Reynolds was just an afterthought. I shouldn't have brought it up, that was rude. Don't ruin a great night, it's hardly over."

Crystal was desperate for him to stay; they barely scratched the surface of their real lives as CIA coverts. This time, the secrecy was killing her. Outriders versus The Depot be damned, she had it bad for him. She surprised Mac by turning him around and pulling him close. She clutched his face and kissed him.

Mac wasn't expecting that frantic a reaction. He drew his arms over her and briefly fell into the kiss, but despite her sweetness, he couldn't allow himself further pleasure. He drew back hesitantly.

"No…no_. I can't_. I'll give Dani your card and you can do your thing, but as for me and you, I guess this will be our first and last date, I'm sorry Crystal."

Mac abruptly returned to the table and put on his coat. He dug out his wallet and slapped down the money for dinner. "That's for both of us, so you can't say I was a cheap date!"

He made a show of storming out of the restaurant and left her red-faced before the other diners. He hurried to the corner and slid up behind a telephone booth. Something cold and wet brushed his cheek and he gazed up at the streetlight. It was starting to snow, big white flakes that would blanket the city for at least a day before it turned to grimy slush. He kept his head raised and enjoyed the cool sensation on his hot skin. Sometimes he forgot that even though the armed services and the CIA taught him self-discipline and stoic willpower, at the end of the day, he was still a man.

Crystal Delancey, if that was her real name, was truly a fun and beautiful woman, and Mac enjoyed every moment with her. But he had to do things his way. Though the kiss sent him in a tailspin, romancing her would only feed his growing attraction and cloud his judgment for the mission.

"How the heck does James Bond do it?" He wondered. "_Ehh, _he just does it with everyone."

He wrapped his scarf over his neck and headed for the subway. Sure enough, she tailed him, and two blocks behind her, was the same black van.

_'Let's go, Ms. Delancey.' _Mac thought. _'We're gonna take a little trip to Chelsea Piers, I wanna know your real game and see you in action.'_


	5. The other shipment

**Chapter 5: The Other Shipment**

Mac checked the inner pockets of his coat, making sure he still had the small spy gear in place. He decided it would be too conspicuous to lug around his famed duffel bag of tricks, which also included essential pieces of his counter-measure equipment. He wasn't sure what to expect tonight, and didn't even bring a vehicle, now he wished he had. Once he reached the docks he planned to just do a quick sweep of the inventory. Good old-fashioned gumshoe work. He didn't quite believe Pa when the old vendor told him they moved the crates. The stolen weapons could not be moved undetected so easily, but given the state of disrepair the piers were in, it would be a perfect place to be kept hidden until they planned to use it.

_'If only I knew what they plan to use them for.'_ Mac thought. He peered behind him, but saw no sign of Crystal. _'That woman knows exactly where I'm going, and she's bringing along her good friend, Mr. van.'_

It wasn't that Mac didn't trust her; she confused him. Who did she work for? Where did she work? And why was she so intent to trail and spy on _him?_ Mac sat back and rested his eyes. '_If she wants my autograph, like I always say, all she has to do is ask!'_

There was one nagging thought that almost made him turn home. Suppose he lead Crystal into danger tonight? He was taking chances and to some extent playing games. He suddenly flash-backed on the night he found Cindy shot dead in her neighbor's apartment. Not too long ago, he finally learned to forgive himself for her wanton death. What happened to Cindy was purely coincidental; it had no link to him or his work as an Outrider. However, he reasoned the perps in this situation could possibly have guards around the warehouse, and if she just walked right into it…he let the thought go. He'd make sure Crystal remained safe. He only wanted to bait her for questioning, not make her bait for weapons thieves.

Fifteen minutes later Mac made his way toward the pedestrian entrance to the piers, the snow fell heavily and the temperature had dropped. In the distance he heard boat horns and bells. The desertion at this end of the pier enhanced the eeriness of all the creaking and groaning sounds the rotted wood made underfoot. Mac wasn't entirely sure which building housed this crate so he started with the largest warehouse at the edge of the water. It would be most accessible and quicker for the dealers to make drop offs.

When he stopped walking he heard snow crunching behind him and he grinned. He rushed ahead and disappeared behind a tall yellow derrick. The person tailing him stopped walking, they were confused over losing him so quickly. Mac stayed crouched and slowly moved across the machinery. He peeked out between the openings. It was Crystal for sure. The smart woman had changed her clothes, and now wore all black, with her long hair tied back in a bun. She lifted the lapel of her jacket and Mac craned his neck to try listening in to her end of the conversation.

-O-

"I just had him Mr. Jordan…no he didn't fall off the pier and if he did…oh you _would_ leave him wouldn't you? This is ridiculous! Yeah, you heard me, _ridiculous._ Let the Outriders do _their _jobs!" Crystal tried to keep her voice at a whisper, but Jordan infuriated her.

_ "Damn Delancey! Find that crate, do I have to come out here after you?"_

"Don't even try it, you'll make too much distraction."

_ "Don't smart mouth me, I'm still your superior!"_

Crystal walked and argued in a low voice, then halted beside the crane. She heard enough of Jordan's insults and bullying and yanked the device out of ear.

"I can't hear you anymore, Jordan. I'll report back when I'm done!" She shoved the microphone in her pocket._ 'And when I find this elusive hunk!'_ Crystal thought.

Did he know she was trailing him? Absolutely. Mac Harper was nobody's fool, but neither was she. She almost fell for his miserable act in the bistro. She raised a gloved hand to her lips. The kiss. The kiss was exceptionally real for both of them. Satisfied that there was no one within the darkened warehouse, she raised her voice and called out.

"I know you're there somewhere, come out where I can see you. It's only me, Mac, it's Crystal."

The machinery rattled and she jumped, backing into it. It had to be the wind, unless Mac was trying to scare her. Nobody appeared and her frustration mounted.

"Come on! We're both onto each other so you might as well give it up…_please."_ She softened her tone and looked around. Being alone, the sights and sounds almost frightened her. An ample pile of snow fell atop her head. Crystal suppressed a shriek and turned immediately, raising a small high-beam flashlight. She saw Mac hanging off the machinery. He had climbed halfway up the crane, apparently for a better view into the warehouse windows and he just deliberately snowballed her.

_"Ahh!_ Get that out of my eyes!" He cringed and nearly slipped.

_"Mac!_ What are you _doing?_ Come here!" She ordered quickly. "Be careful!"

With his legs still wrapped around the crane he lowered himself down and then jumped with five feet left to spare. She hid a ball of snow in one hand and as soon as he turned to her, she smashed it in his face. Mac staggered, but caught himself before he fell onto the derrick. He wiped the snow off and grunted, he wouldn't tell her how much it stung. Mac leaped forward to grab for her and she stunned him with a sidekick to the chest. He doubled over winded, and she pounced on his back with both hands until he fell flat on his stomach. Crystal jammed her knee into his lower back and supported her weight upon him.

"What the heck was that all about? Are you trying to kill me?" She lowered her face near his and her warm breath tickled his ear.

Mac stayed down. "_Arrh!_ I'm not trying to _kill_ you; I'm trying to _test _you! You're good, but I think _I'm_ better."

Without warning, Mac reached out and grasped her ankle. He swung her over his body until she was face up in the snow, her arms and legs askew. Mac crawled closer, and held her legs down so she wouldn't kick him in his nether regions. He leaned over her until their faces were inches apart.

"You're not _better,_ Harper…, you're just stronger!" She fidgeted under him.

"You know, you should eat more onions, its one way to get a guy down, _whew!" _Mac grimaced, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Crystal kicked her legs and frantically shook her arms. "You're a jerk! _Your_ breath stinks so badly, the snow is melting! _Get off!"_

Crystal raised herself and rashly knocked her forehead against his. Mac winced and backed up off her.

"_A hard-headed woman is a thorn in the side of a man!"_ He muttered an Elvis Presley lyric and rubbed a sore spot in the middle of his forehead. "That headbutt was weak."

Crystal's head throbbed and she grasped it with both hands. She rose up until she was upon her knees and placed some snow upon the rapidly swelling bruise she sensed forming between her eyes. She felt her nose, and sighed in relief that it wasn't broken. All her teeth were still in place as well. She never mastered the art of the headbutt, and always hesitated to try it.

"_Damn it!_ Look what you made me do! I'm going to have a bump the size of Manhattan now!_ Ohh…oww…"_ She collapsed on her behind and whimpered more from embarrassment than pain.

Mac slid beside her and grasped her chin. "Hold on, let me see. I could have given you a concussion, or you might have bit through your tongue with that stupid move."

"_It'th noth Stupith! My tongue ith fineth!"_ She growled, running it over her lips. A little blood dribbled on the side of her mouth and she tried to wipe it. Mac beat her to it, and she felt the calloused tips of his cold, strong fingers gently clear it away.

"Give me that flashlight…hey, where'd you get _this_ model? I definitely need one of these, it's so compact." Mac stuck the back end into his mouth and shone it upon her face while she shielded her eyes. "A word to the _unwise, _don't try and head butt a man again, you just can't win." His speech came out loud and garbled.

"That's because you're all dumb as _rocks!_ So why wouldn't your heads be made of them too? Get my flashlight out of your mouth! I don't need your germs!"

Mac wiped it clean of his saliva in the snow and handed it to her. She tucked it onto the side of her belt. He gently cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over the forehead injury. A tingling sensation coursed through her and she impulsively seized his arm and laid her head upon his chest. Mac looked down wryly and then rested his chin in her hair, comforting her.

"Okay, Crystal. I don't want to spar anymore. Are you ready to tell me whom you work for? Or do we go for round two?"

"Round two? You just said you didn't want to fight with me."

"I don't know, there's something alluring about it." Mac smiled.

Crystal slowly raised her head until her gaze met his. He stared tranquilly at her and she immediately had an impression of herself swimming in the pools of his eyes, they shone clear as blue starlight reflecting off the snow.

"Mac..I'm…I'm a…"

"_Wait…not yet."_ Mac's breath nearly came out labored, its cool vapors enveloped her face and his lips brushed hers in tender motions. She drew her arms around his neck and he pulled her closer. Just as they were about to kiss deeply, a speedboat pulled up to the pier and two men jumped off and marched brusquely toward the warehouse. Mac held her tight.

"Oh _great!_ Let's move!"

Mac half-dragged her across the snow and they hid behind a maze of empty crates. Crystal crouched behind him and they both pulled out the exact same palm monocular.

"Eight times the magnification capabilities…I'm with The Depot." Crystal whispered hastily.

Mac stiffened. Henry often ranted about that _other_ CIA offshoot and how it undermined him. This was going to open up a can of worms.

"Imported from the KGB, as you probably already know, I'm an Outrider."

They glanced at each other cautiously, as if each harbored a dark secret of betrayal, along with the allusion of growing desire toward one another.

"We're all in this _together."_ Crystal tried to convince herself.

"_Right._ So let's focus on what we came here for!"

The two peered across the wharf and closed up on a tall blonde man and a husky black man, both wearing dark suits and deep frowns.

"Russian." Mac noted. "Pa was right."

"African." Crystal finished. "Who's Pa and what do you make of it?"

"Kindly _street_ dealer…A definite trade."

"For _what?_"

"Hot off the drawing board, State of the art FIM92 stingers, possibly the new C's, not A's or B's."

"_1-2-3, Do-re-mi_. I'll drink to that, but what's the other half of this trade?"

Mac folded up his monocular and looked grimly at her. "We'll find out, but we have to get closer, there's windows on the lower level."

"They'll hear us, they might see us, what if they have surveillance?"

"Then we disable the culprits." Mac pulled out a small black velvet bag and she glanced inside, trying not to laugh aloud.

"You have _ninja stars?_ What do you plan to do with those?"

"Find the location of the cameras and then fling em! And they're called Shurikens."

Crystal rolled her eyes. "Did you ever think they're hidden?"

"_Nahh_, not in this old warehouse, they're probably just high up. Trust me, I have good eyes and good aim."

Assured that the men were inside, Mac and Crystal rushed from their spot until they reached a sidewall on the right corner of the entrance. There was a giant windowpane, with enough holes for decent visibility. They kept low, and noticed a muted light go off inside. With her back to the wall, Crystal slid up and then quietly turned her body until she faced the interior and her fingers rested on the thin ledge.

"See anything yet?"

"Just the pinstriped backs of Armani suits. Didn't you say these guys were Diplomats?"

Mac glared up at her. "I don't recall giving _you_ that information."

"No, you gave it to my lipstick."

"Cheap _trick!"_

"You like their music?"

Mac elbowed her leg. "Will you please pay attention? I'd love to know who hired you so I can bop em' one."

Crystal wagged her hand across his face. _"Shh…_they're talking in broken English. Grab my lipstick, _quick!"_

"Which color, you have two."

"_Pink grapefruit_…we have to be quiet for this."

"Thank you, Mrs. Columbo. I thought I had to lead a marching band."

Mac tossed it to her and she flicked the back of the tube, allowing the microphone to do its work. The conversation grew heated and the African man rushed over to one of the crates with a crowbar. She vaguely heard him say that his cargo better be 'sound'.

Mac's patience wore thin. _He_ should have been up there peeping through the windows. He clutched her waist and drew his body up until he hovered over her, then whispered closely into her ear.

"You just keep recording. I'll get a deeper look."

"You get any _deeper_ and you'll be in front of me." Crystal mumbled, flushed over his proximity.

"What?"

_"Nothing_. I thought…focus on the African, he's about to reveal what's in the secret box."

Mac pulled out the monocular and zoomed in upon the men. Rusted nails flew left and right as the black man ripped them off the wood. The Russian looked infuriated, but let him do his work.

-O-

"Mr. Akumba, you might want reconsider opening the container until its on boat, no?"

"I don't trust you or your people, Mr. Globenko! I don't trust anyone. You have your weapons. I hunt far and wide for sellers. Now _this_ is what I'm looking for."

He yanked off the cover and Mac and Crystal let out a collective gasp. Nothing had prepared them for this shocker. Mac's hand immediately covered her mouth and they both stared repulsed as Akumba yanked a scantily clad black man and woman, both chained at the wrists, from the unlocked container. They slouched over, frightened and dirty, afraid to utter a sound. The Russian man held his gun pointed at them as Akumba motioned a count with his fingers.

"Are they _all_ accounted for, Mr. Globenko?"

"You asked for twenty-five in the first shipment, and there are twenty-five. The rest twenty-five I find when I can test my weapons!"

"_Good!_ We ship these out at sunrise, as per our agreement. When will you test?"

"It must be done at night. I will discuss the testing grounds with my other associates."

"There are many targets to choose from in _this_ grand City, Globenko."

"I never did like that ugly green statue on the water." He laughed snidely. "Perhaps they could do without the rooftop to that Empire State building."

"You will work it out, I would think a giant wood bridge might be just the target."

"Still, there is also a little matter of that _spy_." Globenko said.

"Aha, the man in disguise, you spoke to the old man?" Akumba pressed.

"Of course, but I don't think he will help much. I have Ambassador Marciano running the photo our friend took to make match. Soon we will know who is telling truth!" Globenko slammed his fist against the crate, nearly shaking it, the people inside let out cries and whimpers. "The Department of Defense already know shipment is missing, but it cannot yet be traced to us."

"No, and it must stay that way! We must do away with that old man quickly, do away with all of them!"

"Do not forget we have embassy meeting to attend."

"How could I? That's why I'm here, right?"

"That's why we _both_ are here."

The men laughed and shoved the people back inside, the terrified shouting of the others were muffled from within the soundproof container. All were afraid to make a move or else they would be killed immediately.

-O-

Akumba was a slave trader and Globenko was an arms dealer. Mac and Crystal ducked low and shivered in each others arms, not from cold, but the inhumane brutality of the so-called Diplomats. They had to be stopped at all costs.

"I told Henry! _I told him!_ Diplomatic Immunity my as…" Mac punched his palm wrathfully.

"Quiet, Mac!" She interrupted his outburst. Crystal put in her earpiece and spoke into her tiny microphone.

"Mr. Jordan, pull up near the pedestrian entrance! We're coming to you now. We have a major problem on our hands."

"_Oh, look who's deciding to talk to me! Did you enjoy your romp in the snow? Can we get back to real business now?"_

"I don't have time for _your_ remarks! Just pull up with the van, Harper is coming with us. This is real business."

"_What the heck? No way! I'm sick of your nonsense, Ms. Delancey, you're being reported as of…"_

Mac had been listening a hairsbreadth away from Crystal's earpiece. He angrily grasped the microphone and connected her earpiece.

"Jordan? This is Mac Harper. You _better _listen and listen well. You _will_ meet us at the entrance of the Pedestrian walk and in the meantime call the police and have them come to this side of the pier with fire trucks and ambulances; it's a _vital_ emergency. We have a severe kidnapping crisis on our hands…among other things. I am going to take this matter to my superior Henry Towler and if you don't like that, we can duke it out later, do you understand me?" He ordered sternly.

Jordan grumbled a few choice epithets toward both of them and an affirmative before rudely signing off.

Mac tossed her the equipment. "Blowhard!"

"That's telling him!" Crystal nodded gratefully.

"For now. That man has major issues. _These_ two psychos are about to leave. As soon as they do, I'm going in! You meet up with Jordan and wait for the authorities. Tell him to get in contact with Henry and have him meet me out here within the hour. Clear?"

Crystal saw he was in no mood for more games, nor was she. She swallowed the urge to tell him to be extra careful. He heard that enough from all the women in his life.

"Yes, Mac. _Clear."_

"While you're waiting, do a playback of everything that you recorded and make an additional copy for me. I need names and locations, _anything."_

"Of course."

The two hushed as they heard the boat start up again and the Diplomats made their exit. Crystal rose to leave and Mac clutched her arm.

"Crystal, thank you. I'm glad for your help."

"Me too. I mean, I'm glad we can work on this _together." _Crystal wanted to kick herself, it was the second time that night she used the 'T' word. Any minute he'd be expecting her to sing Kumbaya. She definitely sensed a bond with Mac and wished mightily he could be her 'Mr. Delancey.' Crystal had a notion that somehow Outriders were the real deal and The Depot was flailing due to pride and resentment._  
_

Mac's grasp slid down to her hand and his hold lingered. "We'll definitely talk more. You know, something's off with this character, Jordan. I don't trust him."

"Jordan? He's harmless. All talk and no action, especially since his accident benched him."

"He's a desk rider? I mean…surveillance only? _Jeeesh_! That's what could make him a threat, Crystal. _Inaction,_ jealousy, whatever it is, there's a huge chip on his shoulder. Henry mentioned a few rebels from his team. Watch your back." He cautioned.

They gazed at each other solemnly and Mac stood up and shook the snow off his coat and pants. His body was starting to feel the freeze, but it was nothing compared to the poor souls locked inside the container. He turned aside from her.

"I gotta get in there before they become popsicles…God, I hope there's no children!" Mac glowered at the building. His brow creased with worry.

The snowfall continued to blow harder into blizzard like proportions and piled up higher around them. Crystal moved closer to him and dug into his pocket. She handed him his ninja stars.

"Mac, don't forget the surveillance!"

She kissed his cheek and ran off. Mac smiled briefly and then raced inside to help free the enslaved.


	6. loyalty and recordings

**Chapter 6: Loyalty and recordings**

Mac gazed sullenly into the fluttering iridescent flames of Dani's electric fireplace. He had just finished soaking his feet in hot water and mineral salts. After dumping the water, he sat cross-legged at the edge of the sofa with a warm quilt loosely wrapped around his body. Dani approached him quietly and placed a steaming hot toddy on the marble coffee table beside him. Mac reached for it and drank carefully. Dani took a seat beside him on the couch and raised her feet under her. She gently leaned over and rubbed his back.

"Hey, do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Everything…anything…what happened in the warehouse."

"I did what needed to be done, but I _failed_ her." He insisted, his voice thick with emotion.

Dani held his arm. "Mac, don't do this to yourself. You saved those people's lives. What would have happened if you hadn't went there at all? They _all_ could have died. Thanks to you, Akumba is in custody and the other people he planned to kidnapped are safe. Globenko is another story, he's a hard one to catch."

Mac placed the drink down and finally looked at her, his eyes glazed over with tears. She had never seen him look so miserable since Cindy's death.

"I could have saved her. I know I could have, I just needed more time, Dani."

Dani frowned sadly. "Mac, when the ambulance arrived, they tried the paddles…everything. The woman had gone into a diabetic coma; she didn't have her insulin or proper treatment for nearly three days. Her dying _wasn't your fault._ It was those evil men that kidnapped her." She informed him more sternly than she meant to and held her tongue.

"I should've gone inside sooner! I was too busy…"

"Trying to keep yourself and that Crystal woman safe…and do things _accordingly._ Mac, do you realize if you went in there _before_ they left, they could have killed you? What if they caught you? Who knows? They might have taken hostages or killed Crystal too. You weren't prepared for that kind of action."

"Well I should have been! I can't take anything for granted anymore. I should have been packing and had my equipment. This whole case would be over already if I wasn't so stupid! Now the stingers are already out there and I have no clue what they're planning."

Dani tossed up her hands. "Will you _stop?_ You are not stupid! If anything I blame Henry and the department of Defense for not cluing us in sooner."

Mac jumped up, letting the quilt fall to the floor. He paced her living room, stretching out his arms and rubbing the last of the chill from them. He was dressed in a gray tee shirt, navy blue sweatpants and heavy athletic socks. Dani insisted he warm up and relax before making the trip home, then finally decided he should crash on her couch and Mac didn't argue with her.

"I know, Dani, its all part of the job. We win some, we lose some. I'm telling you, these creeps are gonna pay hard for this."

"And there's no one better to mete out the justice than you, but you have to keep your head on straight. Don't think too much with your heart, it will take you everywhere but where you actually need to go."

"That's a good one. What fortune cookie did you pick that up from?"

Dani folded her arms crossly. "Excuse me? That was sound advice from my father."

Mac shrugged innocently. "Sorry. I agree with him…you. No more sulking."

"That's my Mac."

Dani stood up, she was ready to slip into her nightgown and fall asleep. It was very late, after one in the morning, and the next day she planned to re-open her studio and get back to her photography and pressing appointments.

"Mac, Henry is investigating those two names you gave him. He should know more by the morning. Did Crystal ever get back to you with the recording?"

_"No!_ By the time all the commotion died down, well, I think her partner just drove off. I didn't see her again after she left me. I worry about her with that guy. He probably convinced her to bring those recordings back to their bureau."

"Mac, Henry _needs _those for proof. He has to confirm the voices and names, and they must have said a lot of incriminating things."

"Secret or no secret, tomorrow Henry better tell me where this damn Depot is. I'm going down there to talk to her and the handlers myself. Jordan knew very well this was _our _case, Dani."

Mac brushed his fingers through his hair and leaned on the windowsill, staring into the wintry night. The snowstorm had lightened, but the flakes continued to fall evenly over the City. Dani stared at her partner; the man had it bad for Crystal and refused to believe she would betray whatever trust they formed.

"And so did _she._ You heard what Henry said; The Depot has been riding the coat tails of the Outriders for years. They wanted this case more for reputation than anything. I hate to say this but…"

Mac stared at her in disbelief. "You think I've been conned?"

"Maybe."

Mac bumped the glass angrily and the entire window rattled. There were a few quiet moments between him and Crystal, where he felt the covers dissolve and they were able to be themselves. When they kissed, it was definitely not an act.

"I won't say that until I have a chance to speak to her one more time."

Dani sighed and headed toward her bedroom. "Mac, I'm going to hit the shower and then hit the hay. I have a long day tomorrow. I expect Rick here by eight. It's breakfast, than the studio clean up. Henry's an early bird, so make sure you're awake too. He'll definitely have to go with you to The Depot."

"Thank you, mother." Mac managed to joke.

"Anytime, finish that toddy and get some sleep. We'll work this all out."

"Sure. Goodnight, Dani."

Mac waved her off to bed and then flopped back onto the couch. He tried flicking through the television but nothing caught his interest.

"_Curse you_ Sixty Minutes!"

The news show had been responsible for the pre-mature death of his guilty favorite, 'Time jumpers,' about a handsome and silly Wild West cowboy fixing inaccurate history somewhat inaccurately with a spunky kid sidekick he picked up from 1984, and his obtrusive, yet elegant wristwatch for a time machine. He flicked channels again until he found himself completely immersed in watching the melodramatic movie of the week on the late show, _'Remodeled and refined,' _starring the very same actor from Time Jumpers.

"I like this guy, he's got boatloads of untapped talent and natural charisma." He laughed pointedly. "Too bad all anyone cares about is your chiseled six pack and green eyes, man."

Mac settled into the couch with the quilt. He needed something fluffy to take his mind off the events of the night and this did just the trick. Mac was glad he wasn't _really_ in the modeling business, and he empathized with the guy's confusion…until he started screwing up. Mac found himself scolding the TV and berating the gullibility of the backwoods male model trying to make it big in New York, all the while being taken advantage of every which way by power thirsty agents, photographers fan girls.

"What an _idiot!_ I guess some people have to put their hands in the fire and _keep it there_ before they realize something's burning."

"_Dope! _Your friend just OD'd and you go and become a pothead because some greasy bottle blonde passed you _one_ hit? _Lame!"_

"Oh come on! _Another_ bottle blonde? Start thinking with your _brain_. She ignored ya when you were a nobody baling hay…_oooohhh,_ good come back line, _Taylor_, I'll remember that one, _'Services have been rendered, lady!'_ Hoorah!"

During commercial breaks Mac rummaged for any sort of junk food sustenance in Dani's refrigerator and cabinets, but there was none to be had except unsalted popcorn. He settled on that and peanut butter and celery sticks. He leaped over the couch and back into his comfortable position so he wouldn't miss the finale. He wound up flinging the popcorn at the screen by the end credits.

"I knew that plaster faced vixen would drop you like a hot potato for the next jerk! Go ride on home and buy that ranch! Look at her and her crocodile tears, give me a break, will ya! You should have ran off with the girl who gave ya the apples, she was cute and _sweet."_

At the thought of sweetness, Mac suddenly remembered Crystal's perfume, and then her perfumed business card. "_Damn!_ She gave me her home number!"

Mac shut the television and raced to his coat. He fumbled through his inner pocket until he found it. He stumbled in the dark and found Dani's phone, dragging the curly wire until he was on the couch again. He dialed, but nobody answered after ten rings.

"Either she sleeps like a log or she's not home, and if she's not home…" He glanced at the clock-it was nearing three am.

Mac paced beside the window again, his mood once more sobered.

'_Where are you, Crystal? Please tell me you're on my side.'_

-O-

"Ms. Delancey."

"_State your secret code."_

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as _sweet."_ Crystal spoke wearily into the intercom.

Her eyelids felt heavy and she rubbed her face, this morning she didn't feel up to using much cosmetics, just enough to cover the black and blue beside her eyes from last night's scuffle. She had barely slept a wink and stayed up fretting, then snacking, drooling and ultimately complaining over the dumb hunk on the late show. She still enjoyed the cheesiness, but found herself comparing the actor to Mac Harper, which forced her to admit that she was getting seriously attracted to the Outrider_. _She needed a distraction to take her mind off the warehouse raid and the fact that she abandoned him, not by her own will, but because of Jordan's deceit. Crystal passed out right as the credits rolled and the cowboy rode off into the sunset on a Central Park horse. She didn't wake up until eight am, the time she would usually be getting into The Depot. She was prepared to have some harsh words with her so-called partner and Mr. Randolph, their handler.

The light over the lock turned green and a set of heavy steel doors opened to allow her entry. The Depot was housed in the basement of a bland office building in mid-town, which moonlighted as a CIA bureau. Randolph and Jordan tried to promote that their location deployed a higher level of secrecy, but she knew better. They were shoved down there from a _lower_ level of funding.

"Thank you, computer from _Logan's run_." She sighed, always getting an eerie feeling whenever she heard the female electronic voice talking.

She passed by the non-descript desks and state of the art surveillance equipment of the office crew, offering them a nod and a smile. She halted before Mr. Randolph's doorway and smoothed down her hair and her dark blue blazer, then rubbed her palms nervously against her jeans. The Depot had no set dress code, so she chose to be casual most times with hints of Wall Street attire.

She knocked and Mr. Randolph immediately bade her to enter with his light English accent. As she came inside she saw four men within his grandiose office and her heart fluttered. Mac Harper stood facing Randolph's library, his arms crossed and body tense. She saw another older man, lean, tan, and business like, sitting cross-legged in the chair before Mr. Randolph's desk. Jordan was helping himself to some coffee, a crafty smile upon his face. Mr. Randolph drummed his fingers on a small stack of red files and stared at her from above his gold wire-rimmed eyeglasses. His silver goatee twitched, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable and furious.

"So glad you could join us, Ms. Delancey. Please, have a seat. Have you met Mr. Henry Towler? He's responsible for the Outrider division."

Henry rose slightly out of good manners and offered her his hand. She shook it carefully and sat down.

"No, we haven't met, but I've heard _many _things about him." She glared at Jordan, who like a cowardly rat, remained standing close to Mr. Randolph's chair.

"I can only imagine what you might have heard, Ms. Delancey." Henry noted crisply. "You've already met my Outrider, Mac Harper."

Mac swung himself around and Crystal nearly jumped. His jaw clenched angrily, but she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes. He nodded brusquely toward her.

There was no time for small talk. "Yes, I have. Mr. Randolph, I came here to discuss those recordings I made. It was my intention to turn them over to Mr. Harper as soon as I had access to retrieve them."

She frowned at Jordan and made sure he felt her hot displeasure. "However, my partner, Mr. Jordan, _denied _me access to the equipment, forcibly, I might add, and didn't allow me to return to the warehouse to help Mr. Harper. He practically drove off against my will."

Jordan's mouth hung open and she watched delighted as Mac's form relaxed like a balloon losing its helium. She caught a hint of a smile upon his lips and realized that it had hurt him to think he was deceived by her.

"What the hell do you mean, _forcibly_, Delancey? Wanna explain where you got that little bruise last night? I already told Randolph how you snuck off and cut contact with me. Who knows what you two were doing out there!"

"Hey! Watch it! Ms. Delancey and I are both professionals." Mac snarled.

Jordan ignored him. "I told you I'm the only one who handles the equipment, you might have broken something." Jordan limped toward her and Mac stayed right in step with him until he backed off.

Crystal rose from her chair and pointed. "I slipped on the snow! I learned very well how to use all those toys, _you _taught me! You practically tore my arm off when I tried to hook up the recorder in the van!" She glanced at Randolph, who didn't seem surprised at all. _"After_ knocking me into the beanbag he limped his way to the front of the van and drove off like a jackrabbit running from a wolf!"

Crystal raised her voice and stomped her boot heel. "I want to know what the heck is going on here between sectors! Mr. Randolph, you had me spying on Mac and the others for a certain reason, I didn't want to do it, but I was being loyal to The Depot and then I had to listen Jordan's crap about Outriders and how they're stuck up _and_…anyway, what is going on?"

She flicked her hair and sat down to calm her nerves, assuming that tomorrow she would be pounding the pavement for a new job. Mr. Randolph unfolded his hands and lifted the red file.

"It's fairly simple. The Depot had the Intel on the stolen shipments as soon as it happened, but Mr. Towler here decided to take it upon himself to steal our case for the benefit of the Outriders."

Henry sat up, threatened. "Now look here, Randolph! Caspar Weinberger called me from Washington to complain that nothing was being done and enlightened me on what exactly was in the crates. You don't sit on something as vital as two hundred missing war stingers!"

"We weren't _sitting on it_, Henry. We were preparing a plan of action to retrieve them."

"_Baloney!_ When the Secretary of Defense calls you at two in the morning to threaten your job and permanent funding, you get off your rocks and you _act, _plan as you go along, but you act! A _whole week_ went by before they heard from The Depot."

Mac, who had his attention drawn to the books again, glanced up surprised. A sinking realization hit him and he caught Crystal's bewildered expression. They seriously needed to talk when this turf war was over.

"Mr. Randolph, with all due respect, how is it that you would be able to form a plan of action _at all?_ Nobody had any idea who was involved or where in the world the shipment was. If I hadn't done some street work, I never would have gotten the idea that they were Diplomats or even that the crates were hidden at the piers."

As Mac questioned him with an air of mock naiveté, his gaze landed on Jordan and he narrowed his eyes just enough for the man to feel the weight of his suspicions. "Somebody around here is a mole."

Jordan cut into the conversation. "You think you and your little group are the _only_ people with connections around this city, Harper? Think again! It'll take more than a dirty old man selling crap in Chinatown to convince me of anything! I was doing this work when you were still playing cheerleader in High School! So don't try and tell me _or_ Randolph how to do our jobs. We certainly have our own Intel and we use it to the fullest extent."

Mac cringed at the cheerleading comment and Crystal looked down shamefaced. He had forgotten their little dinner date was recorded for Jordan's listening pleasure. However, he now had his suspicions confirmed. He had never mentioned Pa nor Chinatown to Jordan. Assuming Crystal didn't reveal anything, but she didn't know of Chinatown either. Somehow Jordan knew about Mac's undercover assignments. Mac was about finished here, he managed to save twenty-four lives last night and prevent twenty-five more kidnappings and that was what counted. He bustled toward the doorway and grabbed his coat off the hanger.

"This all makes me wonder what side you're _really_ on, Jordan. At first I thought it was just sour grapes over your gimp, but now I'm not so sure. I'll tell you one thing, I'm gonna find out! Henry, I'll see you later!" Mac slammed the door behind him and hurried toward the loading elevator. Crystal was on his heels.

"_Wait!_ Mac! I'm coming with you."

"Coming where? I don't even know where I'm going, I need to think."

"Then we'll think. I know the perfect spot."

"Where's that?"

"Belvedere Castle, Central Park."

As the elevator brought them up to the first floor of the building lobby, Crystal edged closer to him apprehensive. Mac sensed it too, he had figured this whole mess would have opened a can of worms, and now he realized that _he_ was the one who opened it.

"It's him, isn't it? Jordan. He's a double agent." Crystal said evenly.

"I told you to watch your back with him, if that's true and he suspects you have any idea…"

"Then I'm in danger."

Mac stared ahead intently as they exited the building and then he grasped her shoulders. "Go back to your organization, and _be_ the loyal Ms. Delancey. I don't want them to distrust you any more than they already do. Tell them you were buttering me up and that…_it worked."_ Mac kicked at the snow and then peeked at her.

Crystal stared longingly into his eyes, what he said was necessary for her to do and he wanted to protect her. She figured him out well enough to know he may have had another plan in the works, but he couldn't do it without her. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, then clutched his hand.

"I want to be loyal to the right people, Mac. Don't forget me."

"I highly doubt that." He sighed and nuzzled her hair. "I won't leave you."

Crystal patted his cheek, then returned to her building before he could see the tears swimming in her eyes. She barely knew this man, but had a feeling that no one could ever affect her the same way. That had to account for something and she hoped one day to find out what that something was.

Mac felt an object in his hand and he looked in his palm. It was a black tube of lipstick and a note wrapped around it.

'_Told you I had two. Siren red. Duplicated recordings, but Jordan still has one. Go catch those Diplomats first, cowboy!'_

Mac flipped the lipstick and pocketed it with a loud laugh just as Henry came outside.

"I see you're in better spirits. I thought you'd gone?"

Mac patted his shoulders. "Are you kidding? You fell for _that?_ Let's go meet Dani, because we have to _act."_


	7. Et tu Brute?

**Chapter 7: Et tu Brute?**

"Come on, come on, come on…_load!_ Load while I'm still alive, _ughh!_ Stupid Tandy comp!"

Crystal's leg shook and she strummed her fingers beside the keyboard impatiently, staring at her watch every ten seconds. It was after-hours in the Personnel sector of The Depot Headquarters and she generally wasn't allowed full access to the area, and she definitely did not have access to the Depot Personnel files. She disliked coming down to this side of the 'basement' they worked in. The men and women who worked here were as unsociable as trolls guarding a bridge, and their offices were in a spooky, far flung area, away from the hub of activity. They even had their own entrance and exit through the building. A bypass code and some tricky camera looping got her into the office. Crystal was forced to use the personnel computer system, as Mr. Randolph ordered the employees to keep the hard copies in an undisclosed area. She had managed to figure out Mr. Randolph's Shakespearean password of _'Et tu Brute?'_ which to her was brilliant, considering anyone hacking into the system would definitely be considered a traitor like Brutus was to Caesar.

After the revelations she and Mac shared about Jordan, it was vital that she look into some history, not just for the weapon's case, but also for crucial personal interests. Sometimes she wondered why she even joined the CIA, let alone The Depot. Randolph was a top-notch Agent, with twenty-five years as a member of MI-6 under his belt. However, Randolph was also an old English softie, and used a lot of his clout to get her in the position she was in. He understood her reasons for joining, even if he often warned her they weren't necessarily the best ones. Once this weapons case settled down, if Mac was still interested, she wanted to share more of her real story with him.

Crystal had managed to convince Randolph that she tricked Mac into helping her discover the whereabouts of the crates, but Jordan was not so easily deceived. Sometimes she wondered if he generally spied on her out of boredom and the thought made her feel very uncomfortable. This time, the tables were turned.

"Come on, floppy! Save it already! I want to go home, I have research to do, and a friend who needs my help." She complained to the computer.

She felt the best thing to do was take whatever information she found and view the files on her personal home computer. If that didn't work, she would pass it along to Mac, and he would definitely find a way. She was keenly interested in reading Jordan's case report from the shooting that crippled him for life.

Crystal was so intent on the screen, that she didn't hear the office door open, however she noticed a sliver of light shining underneath. It was better she hadn't put the main lights on when she came in. Her handy flashlight did the trick. The floppy miraculously saved the data, with barely any space left. She quickly slid it out and into her purse. She hit the screen off button and scrambled underneath the desk, curling up as much as possible. The slow thumping of a wooden cane against the linoleum sent a shiver up her spine. Jordan had found her. He came straight for the computer room and flicked on the lights just as she pulled the chair in to conceal the rest of her body.

"I know you're in here, Crystal. It makes no sense to hide. Come out now."

Crystal sighed and slowly crawled from her spot, feeling a bit ridiculous before her partner. She dusted her jeans and stood up tall. Jordan was a wiry man, close to six feet, but advancing middle age and his limp forced him to slouch in one direction at times. He glowered at her.

"How did you get in here? What are you up to?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. How did you?"

"Don't answer a question with a question!" Jordan snapped. "You think I have no clout in this bureau? When Randolph finds out what a traitor you are, you're going to be in serious trouble!"

Jordan laughed, but it was a snide laughter, mingled with scorn and a _'tsk, tsk'_ feeling that put Crystal's flight or fight response on alert. It was now clear to her that Jordan no longer played with a full deck.

"You're just like _him_, feeding Intel to the Outriders! Well, I certainly put a stop to that!"

Crystal held back the devastating reaction that wanted to pour out. She had enough of his tattletale bullying. She bounded toward the door.

"What I do is my business!" Her voice cracked sadly. "With people like you thinking they can run the Depot, playing for the Outrider team is what's _best._ Go ahead and tell on me, you act like an immature fourth grader. I'm leaving!"

Jordan whacked his cane against the wall and blocked her exit. "So soon? I want you to tell me what you were doing!"

Crystal grabbed the cane and shoved it away from her, pushing Jordan into the desk in the process.

"How dare you? You want to know? Well, you'll definitely find out, Jordan! Mark my words!"

Crystal rushed past him before he could lunge for her and raced through the corridors of the darkened Headquarters. She had just made it to the elevator when the doors opened and a towering man stepped out.

"Not so fast, my lovely." The man uttered harshly with a Russian accent. Crystal backed away.

"_You!_ You're Globenko!"

He gripped her arm and shoved her into the elevator before she could defend herself. Crystal attempted to kick him, but he caught her leg and forced her into the opposite wall. She banged her head and slid down woozy. She shook it off and tried to crawl out, but the man was too fast. He grabbed her body and thrust a burly arm across her neck. Jordan hobbled toward the elevator and came inside, smiling furtively. Crystal gazed up at him.

"I knew you were in on this! I can't believe what you did!" She choked out, and the Russian man pulled tighter, forcing her to keep silent.

"You just had to get involved with the Outrider, didn't you? Well, he's next on our list now that we know for sure who he is. You did well for your last assignment, Ms. Delancey, you brought him right to the trap. I'll be sure The Depot remembers your good works, however _brief."_

Tears streamed down her face and the pressure from Globenko's arm caused her to lose a little air.

"Don't you lay a hand on Mac! You are a _murderer!_" She gasped. "You killed my fa…"

Jordan lifted his cane and whacked her face, stunning her. "_Shut up! _It will all be over soon! Do your work, Evan!"

"No! Help! _HELP ME!"_ Crystal's screams faded the moment he plunged a small needle into her neck and she passed out.

-O-

Dani spent the evening hours working tirelessly in her darkroom. She had to get the latest prints of Mac's sweater portraits to _Esquire_ before the end of the month and some dress photos of the girls to _Redbook_. As she hung the photos up to dry, she vaguely heard the elevator ring and her assistant Rick called her.

"Hey Dani, _um_…you have a visitor. He says it's very important, about your male model."

"Yeah, the guy! I don't know his real name though." The old man with him said.

Dani carefully stepped out of her room and into the main studio. Rick stood beside an elderly man sloppily dressed in a roughly hewn brown coat and a pale blue leisure suit. When he saw her, he quickly removed his hat and crumpled it in his hands.

"I'm sorry to disturb ya like this. My name is Patrick Dugan and I really need to talk to you."

Dani nodded toward him. "Okay, sure, just excuse me one moment."

"Of course, Mrs. Reynolds."

She took Rick by the arm, leading him into the elevator. "Ricky, would you be a darling and get me more photo paper from the storage room, _um_, matte this time." She leaned closer and whispered. "Call Mac from the car phone. He should be on his way back now. Tell him to _move it!"_

"Sure. Hey, do you really want me to leave you alone with this guy?"

She peeked at the old man. He paced around awed at the flashy display of buzzing neon light designs and high art modeling prints on display.

"Don't worry, I don't think he's here to harm me."

"Whatever you say, you're the boss." Rick cocked his finger at her and then hustled out. Dani turned to Patrick and took a seat on the white steps across from the elevator.

"Please um…take a seat on the couch. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?"

Patrick wasn't used to this fancy hospitality, but he did as he was told and looked around nervously. "Uh, no, not just now, Is…is the model here? _Oh,_ that's him! That's him on the wall!"

He pointed to a large black and white portrait of Mac on what Dani referred to as her _'Wall of Fame.'_

"Well, he's the only male model I have working for me right now, his name is…"

"Jack…Jack Carter. At least that's what he called himself in the alley. I didn't buy it."

Dani glanced up surprised and quickly realized this was 'Pa,' the old man that Mac spoke of, and the one who supplied the location of the crates.

"Mr. Dugan, it's obvious you have something very pressing to talk about, Jack should be here shortly, would you mind telling me what's wrong."

"I guess I should. I mean if these guys are after Jack, they could very well get you too."

Dani looked at him perplexed and tried not to show fear. She needed to keep Mac's cover. "What guys? Is Jack gambling _again?_ I told that man to stay out the casinos when we went to Vegas."

Pa stared dully. "No, _the Russian_, I mean, one of them was the one who threatened me."

_"Uh oh,_ are you his bookie? Look, if he owes you any money, just tell me how much and maybe we can work something out."

Pa felt exasperated, she was obviously trying to keep him from asking questions about Jack's _real_ occupation.

"No, I'm _not_ a bookie. Your boy Jack came to me for_ Intel_ on warehouses, all decked out in a beard and slipshod clothes. There's no use covering for him, Ms. Reynolds. I kinda made him, though I don't know what branch of the secret services he works for. Now would you like to hear the real story?"

Dani hurried to couch and sat alongside him. "Fine, Mr. Dugan, I'm all ears, please tell me what happened."

Patrick went on to explain all he saw at the warehouse and then his confrontation with the Russian in Chinatown and how he figured out Mac's identity. Dani sat back, trying to keep an air of nonchalance, but inside she wanted to scream. Her Outrider was always in some kind of trouble. The elevator rang, startling them both and Dani leaped up from the couch just as Mac entered. Mac stormed toward her and clutched her shoulders.

"Dani, are you alright?" He looked at Pa surprised.

"Oh, I'm fine, but I think you _really_ need to hear what he has to say, Ma_…Jack._"

Mac almost corrected her, when he realized that was the false name he gave Pa. There was no sense lying to the old man anymore. He was allowed to tell him just enough to keep him from prying further.

"Pa, my name's not Jack, as you guessed. It's Mac Harper. I _am_ a model for Mrs. Reynolds, but I'm also a member of the secret services. I'm not at liberty to say which branch. I've been assigned to handle this case of stolen shipment you discovered and I need to know any more information you might have. That _is_ why you're here isn't it? You got more word on the street?"

Pa's face lit up and he circled Mac. "_Uh huh._ I knew it! You can't fool me. I got more than words on the street. I came to warn you!"

"What's going on? They made me?"

"Somebody did. This giant Ruskie nearly destroyed my income and choked the life out of me trying to find ya! He had a picture of you from the day ya came to me looking for info. I didn't tell him anything, but I figured out you were a model from _Vogue_."

Mac rolled his eyes. "You and everyone else. This Russian, did he leave a name?" Mac knew it had to be Globenko.

"No, but I'm in deep crapola if I don't get back to my spot tonight and tell him what he needs to know."

The elevator rang again and Henry stepped off, holding his coat in one arm. "Parking is disastrous in all this snow! Dani, would you mind pouring me a hot…" Henry glanced at the others and his jaw dropped slightly when he saw Pa.

_"Patrick Dugan?_ Tommy Dugan's brother?"

Dani looked back and forth between the two men. _"Um,_ you two know each other?" Henry's circle of friends and associates never ceased to amaze her.

Mac crossed his arms perplexed. "How do you know Pa, Henry?

Henry hung up his coat and steered toward the bar to mix a drink. "His brother Thomas was my first Outrider. He helped form the division with me."

Mac stared at Pa wryly. "Hey, you told me your brother died in 'Nam."

Pa shrugged innocently. "What? Anyone in can die in Vietnam. I didn't say it was the _war._ That's only what I tell the nosy locals. Looks like you're not the only one with secrets, young man."

"So, what happened to Thomas?" Dani asked, intrigued by the disclosure.

"In 1977 Thomas was on a case similar to this one, only it involved tracking down some miniature nuclear reactors. By that time, he transferred to the Depot, which was a fledgling division then. It was a tough decision, but he was friends with their director and wanted to help them get off the ground."

Pa looked at them irritably. "Long story shot, my brother was killed by some snipers hiding in the bushes near the mansion of one of the thieves. He was trying to save his partner. I don't really know what happened, but _I_ think it was set-up. Tommy managed to kill one or two of the bastards before they gunned him down. His partner claims _he_ killed the snipers, even took a bullet in the leg to prove it, but I know better. My brother died a hero. But that jerk took all the credit, but they only recovered one of those reactors…and it was faulty at that I heard. Still, it made headlines and The Depot finally got some credibility…to anyone who actually cared. I know how it is with you guys, no bells and whistles."

Mac scratched his head. "Seems like The Depot is made up of jerks, except for _one_ exceptional Agent." A startling thought hit him. "_Wait a minute!_ Pa, you said Tommy's partner was hit in the leg?"

"Yeah, now he's a gimp I think, might even still be working for that stupid place."

Dani grasped Mac's arm. "Mac, was that this Jordan guy you told us about?"

Pa's eyes widened and he slapped his knee. _"Jordan!_ That's who it is! He's still around? That really burns me up!"

Mac raced toward one of Dani's closets and tugged Pa's arm. "Get it together, we're leaving!"

"Wait, what do you mean?" He shuffled around to put on his hat and coat.

"We're going to Chinatown and you're gonna turn me over to Globenko."

"Are you crazy! He'll kill you!" Dani said, worried.

"Not right away, he'll want to know exactly what I know about the theft. Probably take me to a hideout. Trust me on this."

"You know I trust _you_, but not them!"

"At least we know the targets he plans on aiming for, Mac, thanks to that recording. I think what you're doing is very dangerous. Let me call in some back up."

"Fine, you do that, but Henry, something's wrong, I feel it in my gut. I haven't been able to reach Crystal since I left her earlier this afternoon. If she's also a target, then it's all my fault!"

Pa halted in his tracks by the elevator. "Wait a minute. Did you say _Crystal?"_

"Uh…yeah, she's a friend of mine."

Pa grasped his mouth and tears sprung to his eyes. "So _that's _where she went!"

Mac rushed out with his go-bag of equipment. He was making sure he wasn't empty-handed this time. "Who, Pa?"

"_My niece!_ Tommy's daughter. After he died she was never the same, she dropped her beauty classes and got herself into this whole spy business. I lost track of her for years. But then again, I was too ashamed to see her anyway, not after the 'business' I was involved with."

"Crystal Delancey is your niece?" Dani asked in awe.

Pa wiped his eyes, embarrassed. "_Crystalyn_ Dugan actually. Her ma died when she was a kid and her father and my wife and I raised her as best we could. A little tomboy she was too, always in a scrape. We was all thick as thieves, and then my wife dies, Tommy dies, and she just disappears. I got one letter from her telling me she's okay, about two years ago, but no return address, nuthin.' Hold on…you mean to tell me she's partnered up with the same freak who killed her father?"

Dani's face blanched. "Oh no, Mac! If Jordan has it in for Outriders, he's going to go after her for being a traitor, just like he thought her dad was. Obviously she's expendable, she knows about the shipment!"

Mac smacked the elevator button. "That was exactly my thought! Now this makes it even worse. I have a feeling they're gonna try and escape from the piers with those shipments tonight. Henry you know what to do."

Henry put his drink down and rushed to Dani's phone. "That's right. I'll get the Coast Guard and whatever law officials I can on this. Those crates _cannot_ leave New York Harbor."

_"Good!_ Set up guards at _all_ ports and landmarks. And call Randolph to tell him he's got a rogue double Agent on board."

"I doubt he'll be surprised."

Mac pulled Pa into the elevator and Dani raced toward him. Mac threw her Crystal's card. "I've been meaning to give you this, it has her home phone number on the back. Keep trying to call her."

"Right, but Mac, what if she's…I _mean_…" Dani tried to soften the words in front of her uncle.

"I won't even think about that yet. I have a feeling they got her, but most likely as a bait. I hope I'm not wrong."

Pa cringed in the corner of the elevator. "I hope not either, she's all the family I have left."

Dani gave Mac a tight hug and a warning to be careful as the doors closed. Mac began carefully concealing his gear in different parts of his clothes and boots while Pa looked on numbly.

"Poor little Crystalyn…_heh,_ her ma gave her that name. I mean the kid has round, dark deer eyes, I could see if she had blue eyes like yours. I told her if she wanted to be hippy-dippy about it, she should have named her _'Fawn'_…they gots brown eyes and are pretty animals, ya know." He sniffled wearily.

"Yeah Pa, I know." He patted the old man's back. "Hey listen, Crystal's a good agent, she knows her stuff. We don't even know if she's really in trouble."

Pa snorted a laugh. "Knowing my niece, she's _in_ trouble."

"Yeah, they say the same about me."

Pa eyed him curiously. "So, you and my niece got a thing going on or something?"

Mac smiled to ease the old man's tension. "We're working on it. As soon as she's safe and sound, you might be seeing a lot more of me around."

"A family of spies! It's a wonder I'm not one."

"Well, ya aren't on a official capacity, but I think you know more dirt than anyone when it comes to New York and its syndicates. Maybe I can get Henry to make you legit, put you on a payroll or something."

"That's crazy, but hey, I'd like that! It beats making perfumes. So really, what's the deal with you?"

"In my business I'm what we call a 'sheep dipper.' Undercover in a legitimate agency, my records are clean, I can infiltrate anything I have to. "

"What would you call Crystal then?"

"Right now, she's sort of a _'dangle'._ She pretended to be interested in siding with our intelligence agency. Like a double agent…only, she did it in reverse, and was feeding info to_ us,_ not The Depot. We also both do a little window dressing, ya know, undercover to get info."

"Sure I do_, Jack the junkie."_

"_Heh_…not my greatest, I was slumming. But this time, _nothing _went as planned. Everything is happening too fast."

"I'll say. Well, as long as she's not a _Honeypot!"_

Mac laughed abruptly. _"Aha,_ so you_ do_ know the lingo. I think Crystal draws a _crystal clear_ line when it comes to that. No sleeping with enemy."

Pa cocked an eyebrow at him. "And If I remember correctly, no sleeping with fellow agents either."

Mac shrugged wide-eyed. As the elevator neared the lobby, he put his coat on and leaned against the wall with his head back. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to dispel the queasy feelings in his gut. It never mattered if Crystal pretended to be oblivious to the Outrider division or him. Jordan knew the truth when he got the recordings and when he spied on them at the bistro and the warehouse. Mac rubbed his eyes and temples. There was so much more to Crystal than he gave her credit for. He admired her tenacity just as strongly as he felt himself falling for her. He made her go back to the lion's den, and now it was up to him to save her.


	8. A little too late

**Chapter 8: A little too late**

"Marciano, I am going to Chinatown and find old man. He will tell me where the alley man is. Do you have boat ready? _Good_…you know where crates are, work quick! I will be there shortly, we have business to take care of too."

Globenko clicked off the phone with a satisfied and cold grin, never taking his steely eyes off the unconscious woman in the back of Mr. Jordan's van. It was shame she had to be eliminated. He thought she was quite beautiful. Globenko had hoped for a smooth transfer, but that all went up in smoke with the interference of the two Agents at the first trade-off. Mr. Akumba was still being questioned in regard to his shipment of slaves and the prisoners were being interviewed. Akumba's was a highly unusual request to grant, but Globenko was desperate to get the weapons. Thanks to the old man's snooping, the entire operation was about to go bust. He figured if he could at least get a _few_ of the stingers, the Soviet army would have the suitable prototype to create an even more powerful war weapon.

The van came to a jolting stop and the woman's form bounced. Her arms were tied securely behind her back and her mouth was gagged. She shifted, but didn't awaken. Globenko rushed out the back of the van and the intense smell of fish and Chinese herbs assaulted him. He hated it. Jordan stuck his head out the window.

_"Globenko!_ Make this quick! We have to get to the docks, my people are closing in and you won't be able to leave the city any which way." Jordan warned.

The Russian grunted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He walked swiftly across the avenue to the corner where the old man's sundry cart normally stood. He checked his watch; the old man still had five minutes to make his entrance.

-O-

Mac and Pa pulled up to the opposite corner and spied Globenko pacing the corner irritably. Mac looked gravely at Pa.

"I'm getting out. Scoot over to the wheel. I don't want him to see you."

_"What?_ Are you loony toons? I'm supposed to meet him!"

"As long as he sees _me_, he doesn't need to see _you."_

"Listen, Mac, I'm a dead man if I don't…"

"You're a dead man, either way, pal." Mac cut him off sharply. "You think Globenko's gonna let you live after all you've witnessed? Not a chance. Jordan is in on this too, and he's dangerous. I'm trying to protect you. Give me three minutes. As soon as you see us leave, then take my car back to Dani's studio and stay there, that's an _order."_

Before Pa could protest, Mac pulled up his gray hood from under the black coat and jumped out of the car. Pa grasped Mac's arm tight.

_"Wait!_ Take care of her, Mac. She's in over her head."

"I think she knows that. Don't worry, I'll find her…and I'll be with her." Mac assured him. Now get ready to jet."

"Crazy kids!" Pa shook his head, but followed Mac's instructions.

Mac crossed over to the corner just as a furious Globenko was about to leave down a poorly lit street. He tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, I believe I'm the one you're looking for."

Globenko turned annoyed and he stared Mac up and down. "Did you suddenly get forty years younger? Where is the old man?"

"That's not important. You wanted him to find me, he did, and here I am. You don't need him anymore. I heard you have a nice portrait of me too. Where is it? Maybe if you're a _good_ arms dealer, I'll give ya my autograph." Mac stood his ground and folded his arms.

"Arrogant bastard!" Globenko seethed. He couldn't be sure if it was the man in the photo, so he pulled it from his coat and examined them both.

Mac leaned over to peek and sighed. "Who took _that?_ It's horrible! The lighting is _all_ wrong, and he didn't even get my good profile! I should sue!"

Mac watched Globenko grab at his ear and realized the man had a microphone attachment. He raised his hands.

"Is that your partner waiting in the wings? I'm turning myself in, what more do you want?"

Globenko growled and clutched Mac's arm. "You're coming with me! We will finish you off!"

"Whatever you say, comrade." Mac allowed himself to be dragged through the dim street toward Jordan's van. Jordan wouldn't make eye contact with Mac as he passed, so Mac just smiled and waved. Globenko opened the rear of the van and shoved him inside. Mac stumbled, nearly tripping over a body. It was Crystal and she appeared unconscious, but thankfully unharmed. He slid to his knees and held her shoulders. The van started up and Jordan sped off just as Globenko entered. Mac put his hands gently on Crystal's face and leaned close to her ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't let them hurt you anymore." He whispered.

Mac felt Globenko's presence hovering behind him. From the corner of his eye he noticed the large man remove a small needle from his pocket. Mac lowered himself further over Crystal, seemingly preoccupied with stroking her hair. Globenko drew closer and just as he attempted to poke Mac's neck, Mac elbowed him hard in the gut. Globenko let out a whoosh of air and Mac grabbed his arm, almost breaking it. Globenko's face blanched and he howled in pain as the needle fell from his hands. Mac caught it and leaped up, jutting it into Globenko's chest. The sedative knocked him out in seconds. Mac caught him and dragged his motionless body away from the doors. The van kept moving fast, but he heard Jordan call out.

"What the hell is going on back there? _Globenko!_ What happened?"

Mac cleared his throat and disguised his voice with Globenko's accent. "Model tried kill me, I use sedative and he fell down quick."

"Yeah, sure. Try using some pronouns and conjunctions while you're at it, okay pal?"

"English not first language…_pal."_ Mac gritted his teeth.

"Well it should be a requirement for everyone on this _planet! _Marciano don't screw around, he wants you on that boat of his pronto or else he's taking off with all your _precious_ weapons!"

"Boat? _Yes_…boat! We must get there!"

"Hang on to your babushka, will ya? I'll be pulling into the pier in five."

"So soon?"

"This is my turf, I know all the shortcuts!" Jordan boasted and Mac rolled his eyes.

Mac kept close to Crystal, who slowly came out of her stupor. She raised her head and saw a man leaning over her through the faint glow from the small light bulb overhead. Mac quickly covered her mouth and put a finger to his lips. He spoke into her ear.

_"Shh_…it's Mac, we're in Jordan's van, he thinks I'm Globenko, don't say a word!"

Crystal stared at him wild-eyed as her vision came into full focus. She wanted desperately to move around and shake out her muscles. She wriggled her body and craned her head toward the ropes around her hands.

"Alright, _alright_…it's coming off."

Mac popped a switchblade from his boot and cut through her ropes and then slit the gag from her mouth. She rubbed her wrists. She gasped in relief at the sight of Globenko, unconscious, and propped up on the beanbag with his hands tied to his ankles. Mac stared at her and shrugged.

"I had to. _C'mon,_ he deserves a lot more than that."

Crystal frowned apologetically. "You're too lenient. I screwed everything up, didn't I?"

Mac's expression fell sympathetically. "No you didn't. I should have let you come with me instead of leaving you behind. That _won't_ happen again." He took her shoulders and pressed her closely to him.

"That sounds very promising." She murmured, gently exploring his face with her lips.

"I keep my promises." He sighed.

"Jordan could be doing ghost surveillance on us right now. He's everywhere and anywhere you know." She brushed her fingers through his hair.

"It'll be the last he ever does, I'm done being his rabbit." Mac replied and softly put his hands upon her neck, raising her face toward his.

The van stopped moving and the door rattled. Crystal jumped away from Mac just as he was about to kiss her and she repositioned herself on the floor. Mac kept himself flat alongside the wall of the van. Crystal looked up and then waved at Mac to knock off the light bulb.

"Let's go, Ruskie! Grab the Outrider, I got Crystal."

No sooner did Jordan put his foot upon the edge of the van, did Mac's leg shoot out, his steel-tipped boot made a bulls eye contact with his jaw. Jordan's head rocked violently to the left and he fell backwards, shouting curses and threats as he spat out blood and a few teeth. He painfully crawled to get his cane. Mac leaped from the van and pounced on him, they grappled for the cane and Mac soon got a firm hold and shoved it under his chin.

"You stay down! I'm not finished with you!"

Jordan spit at him and tried to punch him. "Get the heck off me! I knew there'd be an ambush!"

"That's right! You've been burned, Jordan!"

"You're not getting _any_ weapons! Don't you see? I'm the best! This is my operation and it's about to bust _big time!"_ He rambled on.

Mac pinned his arm with one side of the cane and took a page from Crystal's book.

"This is gonna hurt, fella!" He swiftly head-butted him and Jordan passed out. Mac eased his grip on the cane and rubbed his forehead.

"I can't imagine what that felt like for her." He mumbled.

A gun clicked behind him and Crystal stumbled toward them on the ice. "Mac, go stop that boat, I got him now."

Crystal's hushed voice shook with rage and her finger wavered unsteadily over the trigger. This was the man who killed her father. Her sole purpose for becoming a spy was to fulfill her father's missions and one day, discover the truth. Jordan had to be eliminated.

Mac stared at her, recognizing the tense body language and vengeful glare in her eyes. He rose slowly and inched his way closer.

"_Get out_ of the way, Mac." She seethed. "This is between me and him."

"Crystal, I can't leave if I know you're going to do this. I know how you're feeling right now, but you can't just shoot him down in cold blood."

She forced a laugh. "Why _not?_ That's what he did to my father. My father was a loyal partner. He took the bullet for this creep and then Jordan finished the job!"

"How do you know that?"

"Jordan _admitted _he killed him! I can put two and two together! Now he wants to kill me and _you! _I have to stop him!"

Mac moved nearer and held his hands out to her. "Regardless, is this what your father would have wanted? Would he have done what you're about to do? Nothing's gonna bring him back. Crystal, if you pull that trigger, you're not proving yourself to be your father's daughter, you're proving to be just like Jordan!"

"No, I'm not like him!"

"This is _exactly_ how he would have handled it. _He's_ the killer…_not_ you." Mac's hand brushed her forearm, making sure the gun was aimed away from Jordan. "He'll get the punishment that's coming to him…_believe me_. I'll personally make sure of it. Give me the gun, Crystalyn."

Crystal's head at last turned toward Mac and she stared at him softly. "How, how did you know my real name?"

"It wasn't too hard to guess. But I met someone who's very dear to your heart. He's missed you for years. I promised him that I would bring you back safe. Don't make me break that promise."

_"Who?"_ She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Your uncle Patrick. He's sorry for all the wasted time and wants to see you again. _Please."_

Mac's hand enveloped the gun and Crystal dropped it loosely into his possession. Tears flowed down her face. Mac put the gun in his pocket and he grasped her. She nuzzled her head on his chest, her body wracked with sobs.

"I…I'm sorry! I don't…_I can't_…_I won't_, I won't do it, I promise! _I'm sorry!"_

Mac gripped her and he lowered himself into the snow as she bent forward over his arm, crying aloud. He kissed the top of her hair and rocked her slowly.

"I know…_I know_…I know you wouldn't_. Shh_, you're gonna be fine."

While Mac comforted her, they didn't notice Globenko escape from the van and run toward the pier where Marciano's yacht waited. Crystal looked out over the water and gasped through her tears. She immediately sat up.

_"Mac!_ Globenko's running! Hurry! I'll watch Jordan!"

Mac had to trust her. He staggered up and raced toward the edge. The yacht silently drifted a few feet away, and Marciano was about to turn up the speed. Mac took a running leap off the pier and landed onto the deck with a tumble. He caught up to Globenko and dove for his legs, tripping him. Globenko yelped as his face slammed onto the hard wood, however he was strong, and their struggle only intensified.

"I will get my weapons! I will destroy your city!"

"Not on my watch, _Boris!_" Mac snarled, pummeling him.

Marciano, a stout, dusky man with huge hands, put the boat on autopilot and joined in the fray. He wrapped his chunky fingers around Mac's neck from behind, forcing him off Globenko and he escaped Mac's clutches. Mac tossed his head back and immediately reached for Marciano's hands, sensing his windpipe was about to be crushed. He gagged and coughed, managing to pry Marciano's thumbs slightly loose. Mac forced his thumbs back until he heard a loud crack. Marciano squealed like a pig and released his hold on Mac's neck. Mac raised his arm and walloped Marciano in the face while he was still behind him.

"Where the heck do you diplomats come from?" He sputtered. He figured Globenko to be a _rezident_, a KGB operative posing as a diplomat, but he fleetingly wondered who Marciano had to bribe to earn his diplomacy.

Marciano tried to knock him on his back, but Mac turned and raised his leg. His knee slammed into Marciano's chin and sent him sprawling into the wheel, leaving him down momentarily. Globenko reappeared holding a stinger over his shoulder like a scene from a bad action flick, and his last words proved even more cliche than Mac imagined.

"Even if I get just one, that is all I need! You Americans think you have everything, but we will crush you all!"

-O-

Back on the piers, Jordan regained his bearings and sat up. He raised his pants leg and pulled out a small pistol, aiming it for Crystal.

"I told you I'm the _best!_ Did you really think I was gonna let that damn arms dealer make off with our country's weapons and destroy New York? Fat friggin' chance! He's not getting away, _nobody_ is!"

Crystal's heart pounded and she glared at him. He held the pistol in one hand and in the other, a small black device with two buttons. It was a detonator.

"Jordan! This whole thing was a spoof? You set Globenko up! You did all this just for credit in the organization?" Crystal stared over the waters, the boat had pulled further out into the river and she saw Mac in the distance, on the uppermost section of the boat, attempting to hold off Globenko from firing the stinger.

Jordan laughed crazily. "You're a smart one like daddy, but just like your daddy, you figure things out a little _too late!"_

Crystal ignored him. She sprinted toward the edge of the pier, waving her arms madly.

_"No!_ Mac! Get off the yacht! It's a trap! Mac! Jump_! Jump now_! _It's a trap!__"_

Jordan fired his pistol and the bullet hit her in the back. Crystal fell on her knees, having the wind knocked out of her as the bullet pierced her vest. It made minimal contact with her body, but the pain was still intense. Sirens wailed in the distance, making their way speedily toward the wharf. A Coast guard boat sped along down the opposite end of the river, but to Crystal, the world seemed to stop, when she saw Jordan push the detonator. Everything in motion came to a standstill and she let out a scream of terror.

_"JUMP MAC!"  
_

The deafening sound ripped through the winter night, scattering flocks of sleeping pigeons and seagulls from their roosts. A raging fire reflected in Crystal's eyes and her mouth hung agape, Mac's name dying upon her lips.

"_No…no_…God! He can't be!" She wailed.

The explosion over the water rocked the pier to its foundations; fiery shards and large chunks of debris flew in ever direction and a series of mini explosions quickly followed, undoubtedly caused by its precious weapons cargo. Crystal threw herself face down onto the dock and covered her head, gasping and choking from the plumes of black smoke the freezing winds pushed in her direction. Even the Coast Guard had to cut their engines to wait out the blast. It was all over. The enemy dead, the cargo destroyed, and the Cavalry on it's way. As she tearfully looked out over the blazing and restless waves, Mac was nowhere to be found.


	9. Mr and Mrs Delancey

**Chapter 9: Mr. and Mrs. Delancey**

The icy thrust of the water helped him keep conscious, but all the while he was sinking. The cold blackness of the river engulfed him and he struggled to surface and tore off his coat, which threatened to drag him to the bottom faster. The blast was sudden and enormous–he was surely clonked in the head by a piece of something or other. The boat wasn't very far out from the pier and he hoped Crystal wasn't caught in the explosion. The flames licked at his legs as he threw himself off upon hearing Crystal's heart wrenching screams to jump. A lot of good he did on _this_ mission, at least the kidnapped people were safe from Akumba's vile slave trade.

_'But too bad, too sad…no more weapons to kill people with.'_

Mac wouldn't die the way he secretly hoped, in bed at ninety-five years old, surrounded by loving family and friends. But at least he went down doing what he did best, fighting for freedom and protecting the innocent. It was every hero's dream.

He had to fight harder while he could still hold his breath. Did he learn nothing in his Naval training? This was all much easier in a sealed tank and an Olympic sized pool. His muscles clenched from the frigid waters, they were soon ready to fail him. He glanced upward, watching the shadowy haze of orange and yellow fade, and then someone grabbed him. His rescuer wrapped their slender arm across his chest and started pulling him to the surface, but she still struggled.

_'Damn! Why did you come after me, Crystal?'_ Mac thought. _'Move, Harper! Swim! Help her, dammit!'_

Mac kicked with her. He thrust one arm out and shoved it up and down, to propel himself upward. She was a strong swimmer, but the cold also stalled her. They broke the surface with heaving gasps.

"Mac! I got you! _Ughh.__..wait…wait…_help me!"

Crystal flailed so much that Mac had to change positions from victim to rescuer and keep her above water. He kept a firm hold over her chest and drew her close, resting his chin on her head.

"Are…are you _crazy?"_ He sputtered.

"Yes! Right now I most certainly am!" She said through small wheezes of air.

"Thank you! But _yo…you…_you could have killed yourself!" Mac shouted above the noise of the sirens and news helicopters that hovered above them like vultures.

"_I had to!_ This was my fault!"

"No _it…__wasn't!"_

Crystal arched her body to face him. They stared at one another gently, supporting themselves afloat and shivering from head to toe. She brushed cold fingers over his mouth.

"Blue is _de…de…def …_definitely your color, _Ha…Ha…_Harper!"

"I've always wanted my…my lips to _m…ma…_match my eyes!" He laughed jittery and waded more to warm his self up. "Is…_is…thi_…this…_your…_idea of a second date? _I_…_I th…tho…_thought hamburgers were ideal?"

"Never a dull moment! _Yes…_but _to…_tonight I wanted fish!"

"_Ooh…_well, don't mind me, I'm just…_tr…_trying out for the…_Po…Pol_…Polar Bear club!"

A bright spotlight shone upon them and Mac waved his free arm. The Coast Guard at last found them.

"Over here! Hurry!"

The next fifteen minutes proved to be a freezing blur as Mac and Crystal were hoisted onto the Coast Guard's boat and immediately taken in the hull and given warm blankets and heating pads. The boat sped to the opposite side of the piers and when Mac and Crystal came off the ship, Mac was immediately embraced and flocked by Dani, Ricky and two of the models, who ran from Henry's car to greet him. Crystal smiled and hung back, amused at how Dani was able to show deep concern and scold him in the same breath. She wrapped the jacket the Coast Guard gave her tighter and glanced out again toward the water. The flames on the boat were being extinguished and what looked like a charred form was slowly being pulled onto the deck. Mac was right; she had to have a few screws loose to dive into the freezing water and dense darkness, but she owed it to him…and she couldn't bear to lose him.

She overheard the static conversation of Henry's walkie-talkie while the Coast Guard gave him the status report. Only one body was recovered and they would have to wait until morning to find the other in all the murk. A deeper chill than the one she already felt raced through her. Mac and Globenko were both on the top of the boat at the moment it exploded. It was possible Globenko could have jumped at the same time as Mac. If he did, then he might have gotten away with at least one stinger. As if he read her mind, Mac caught her staring fretfully at the water and then they locked gazes. This mission could very well get bigger and bigger. He wanted to approach her but then he saw someone who desired to even more. Mac smiled and stayed with Dani and the others.

"Hey little cowgirl, that was some rescue you made. Tom would have been super proud of ya."

Crystal turned at the sound of a very familiar, throaty voice. Her hands flew to her mouth with utter surprise.

"Uncle Patrick! You're here!"

Patrick held his arms open wide. "Give or take a few _well deserved_ years in prison, but I never left! I couldn't find ya sweets! I missed ya, Crystalyn."

Crystal ran to him tearfully and they embraced. "I'm so glad to see you, Uncle Patrick!" She pulled away and gazed at him sternly. "But don't pull anymore crap! I love you and I don't you want you to get hurt, we only have each other now."

Patrick laughed and put his arm around her. "I'm clean as a whistle. In fact, I'm in talks to maybe get a certain position in this spy game."

"Mole?"

"What else!"

-O-

Crystalyn rested her arms on the ledge of the castle wall and sighed pleasantly at the view. Central Park was beautiful and blooming in the late spring. In the distance she heard a large audience clapping. They were enjoying a _Shakespeare in the Park _rendition of Romeo and Juliet in the neighboring theater. The Belvedere Castle was her favorite area to meditate and relax in New York City on a warm day. She took a deep breath and watched groups of children playing catch with their dogs and each other. The birds and insects hummed and she inhaled the scent of the grass.

'_I feel like a princess!'_ She thought giddily.

She was so caught up with the nature around her she didn't hear the person come up behind her until he whispered deeply in her ear.

"Hello, Mrs. Delancey."

Crystal smiled furtively and turned around slowly. "Hello, Mr. Delancey. You were almost late."

Mac pulled her close for a long, full kiss. When they finally parted, he wrapped his arms around her waist and they stared at a line of ducks floating across the moat. "We have to work on some of those surveillance skills. I could have been a nut job out to attack you or push you off the ledge." Mac teased her.

Crystal blushed. "Oh, I…I knew it was you! I'm jealous at your stealth skills though. I didn't hear those tan boots clomping behind me at all."

"_Ehh,_ that's because the heel is worn out, I love these babies!"

"So I see, one can never have too many Polos and Levis either. What do you got for me, cowboy?"

"The Citadel finally confirmed the Intel. Globenko's still out there, but everyone's on him, _METKA, MI5, MI6_–they all have reason to believe that he's being kept hidden in the cellar of Lubyanka prison."

"_The cellar? _I thought they stopped using that torture hole after World War two?"

"Yeah, but instead of executing him as a traitor, he's probably getting the royal treatment. Globenko's more powerful than I thought…than _anyone _thought."

"So what's the plan? Mr. Randolph's back in Britain, Akumba's exiled, Marciano's burnt toast, Jordan's rolled up in prison, Uncle Patrick thinks he's Maxwell Smart, and the Depot is _dissolved_." She counted off and let out a sad, dramatic sigh.

"I feel like an orphan!" She leaned against Mac's chest.

"_Aww,_ but Uncle Henry adopted you, didn't he? He told me that Globenko is only the tip of the corruption iceberg, and right now, he'll have to stay where he is. It's unfortunate, but they don't know if he ever escaped with a stinger or not. We knocked out Akumba and Marciano, but it doesn't end there. There's still a bunch of double-dipping diplos living right here in New York. They're a network–up to their ears in all kinds of shady business. We'll eventually get them all."

"So what's the official assignment going to be called?"

"_Operation Immunity_…and Henry wants us to spearhead it…as a couple."

"That's so exciting!" Crystal perked up.

"Mr. and Mrs. Delancey are rich socialites that hobnob with all the powerful people who have their fingers in the Government's pie. Look, I still have my qualms about this _'Mr. and Mrs,'_ action, but I think it's gonna work out."

Crystal stifled a laugh. "Believe me, you'll have a ball. And speaking of a which, don't tell me we're going to crash the President's _ball?_ How tacky!"

Mac shrugged. "I leave all the snazzy invitations up to Henry. That man is more connected than a Rubik's cube, and by the way, I finally mastered it last night!"

Crystal pinched his cheek. _"Aww!_ I know you've been working so hard on that, your brain must hurt."

"It only took me a week!"

Crystal put her arms over his neck. "Mac, how's Dani taking it, now that you have this new assignment?"

"She took it better than I imagined. She had the _nerve_ to say she needed new blood for her portraits, that my face was getting stale!"

"That's her way of saying she'll miss you and doesn't want you to go."

"Henry is not finished with her, in the meantime he's sending in the second best of the best, Jack Striker."

"_Ooooh,_ I hear he's an Aussie. He'll make her Magazine prints sizzle! Wait a minute, _wha? _Did you just say that he's _second _best? May I ask who's first?"

Mac cocked an eyebrow and wagged his head nonchalantly. "Why _me_ of course! But don't tell him that, he's very competitive, in a good way."

Crystal playfully shoved him. She stuck her hands in his blue plaid shirt pocket and pulled out two small and elegant black envelopes.

"Sure. What's this, funeral invitations?"

"Tomorrow night, black tie at the Waldorf hosted by Langston and Ophelia Widmeyer, two of the most richest, _under the radar_ jewelry collectors in the world-who also happen to be diamond smugglers." Mac noted.

"_Ahh,_ so we work the bar, have a few tangos…"

Mac grabbed her in a tango position and glided her across the stone floor. "Eat _free_ shrimp cocktails and caviar till we pop." He dipped her low.

"And scope it out top to bottom." Crystal finished breathlessly as he brought her up slowly. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"After hours, it's a black bag job–we need to replace the recently discovered 'Faith' diamond on display."

"You gotta be kidding me, they're inviting everyone to goo-goo gaga over a _fake?"_

"Yup, Outriders stationed under Mr. Randolph in Britain picked up the real deal in London, with a couple of rare rubies and emeralds thrown in the mix. Henry expects the Widmeyers to be ready for take-down by morning, Mrs. Delancey."

"He doesn't waste any time does he?"

"Nope, when he gives out a mission, he wants it completed _yesterday._ Before we actually start Operation Immunity he's throwing a bunch of fairly simple assignments or way. He wants to evaluate how well we work together."

Crystal winked and kissed him again. "Does he really want _that_ report?"

"_Heehee_…I didn't get around to typing those yet."

"So, I guess we're a Romeo and Juliet tale with a happier ending. Our spy families reunited as one. _'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."_

Mac spun her around in a warm hug. "And the lovers got to stay together. _I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Henceforth I never will be…Mac Harper."_

Crystal smiled gently at him. "No. I _want_ Mac Harper. He's finer than Romeo. But, that all remains to be seen."

Mac jokingly stooped on one knee. "Are you doubting my affections, or that I'm _fine?"_

"Neither, my dearest! But you know how it is in these situations, Mac. They'll figure we're too emotionally involved and that the operation will suffer. Let's just, take it a _little_ slower."

Mac rose and then stepped back with a wounded expression, but he gallantly swooped her hand up and kissed it. "Very well, madam, but I do think we make quite a happenin' pair."

"So do I. And I want us to stay that way for as long as we can."

"I can accept that. Working with you is going to be some escapade. I'm starving, I got another surprise for ya in my left pocket."

Crystal stuck her hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out a rumpled coupon. "Mac! You _shouldn't _have! A two for one meal at Jack in the box!"

"And you thought I _only_ ate at Dennys!"

They laughed gaily and bounded down the stairway of the Castle; ready to take on the world of corruption and whatever new clandestine missions were thrown their way.

**The End.**


End file.
